The Pariah
by Creen
Summary: Sequel to The Demon. The Twilight is here, and so are the Interlopers. It took three Goddesses to banish them. Now, with the Goddess of Power allied with them, the Interlopers have returned... but not all bend knee to the Demon King. But can an Interloper outcast be trusted? More importantly, can one who is bound to such a creature wield Evil's Bane against the Demon King?
1. Chapter 1 Prelude

Darkness curled and wafted, drifting in a nonexistent wind. But the woman felt it against her skin, as if she wore no clothes… and yet, a smoky cloak clung to her, protecting her… hiding her. She was nothing, a ghost, a specter to this strange place.

It was a place of darkness. Deep within, the woman could feel darkness all around her… terrible things were coming… terrible—

_You should not be here, master_.

The woman spun, heart pounding.

This was new.

A golden beast sat behind her, the wolf's molten red eyes seemed to pierce her very soul, with their ruthless intelligence.

It was also quite large… as tall as she was… and it was still_ sitting_… with its massive muzzle resting on its paws.

_Why do you call me master? _The woman asked, curious. She could not be harmed here.

_You made us, _the golden wolf panted, amused. The teeth were also quite large, the woman noted nervously… and began to wonder if she was quite as invulnerable here as she thought.

Us?

The woman's eyes widened… as she saw other shapes prowling in the dark… wolves of various hues and sizes… their eyes also aglow and representative of the rainbow in their variety. The woman realized they had been there all along… and would have remained hidden, if they had not _chosen_ to be seen by her.

Except for one. One sat beside the golden wolf… and although smaller in size, he was no less striking… for shadows clung to him. The woman had not noticed him, next to the splendor of the golden wolf… but she sensed that might also be part of his power. To be overlooked. His eyes were not orbs of burning fire, but cold, icy sapphires. There was a strange quality to his gaze. It took the woman a moment to perceive the exception. All of the other beasts, their eyes looked at her… filled with hunger, repressed violence, and _absolute_ loyalty. They were hers… had always been hers… and had served her, whether she remembered or not.

But this one… this one was undecided. He would wait, and see. He did not belong to her.

Something sent a tremble through this world of darkness, and the pack raised their heads, except for the shadow wolf, all turning to gaze upon the source of the disturbance.

But the woman could not look, could not break her gaze from the blue-eyed killer.

Hatred and violence filled the air, pouring off of the unnatural pack, almost smothering her with its stench.

_He is coming, _the pack howled in unison… except for the black wolf. He did not seem able to hear the pack, or perceive the approaching threat. He simply watched her… curious.

The golden wolf spun, to gaze upon her once more, this time afraid.

_There is little time, master. The threat is greater in this cycle than those that came before. The Enemy has found those that do not belong. He is—_

Then the world exploded in shadow and pain.

((()))

Princess Zelda howled in agony, as she rolled from her bed, cracking her elbow painfully on the hardwood panels of her chamber floor.

A moment later, there was a flash of trailing shadows and sudden pressure within the chambers, as a man burst into form, weapons ready.

Then Sato knelt beside her, worried.

"Milady?" he whispered, concerned.

"It was a prophesy," Zelda hissed, clutching her head.

"Not a dream?" the sheikah asked.

"A danger draws near… and… it _hurt_ me," Zelda admitted.

The man's pale face grew paler. No Seer had ever been harmed during a seeing. It was… unheard of.

"Let me convey you to the court physician," Sato said, sheathing his blades about his black clad body. Even with the concealing face-wrap, Zelda knew her bodyguard was frightened. The man had protected her for twenty years, ever since she was a babe in her mother's arms.

Zelda did not know how long the Shadow-clan lived… but in that time Sato had only appeared to age a few years… and still moved and acted like a hylian man in his early forties. In all that time… she had never seen fear in his red eyes.

Something shook the world, and Zelda flinched.

"There is no time. It is here," the princess hissed, rising to her feet.

"I will—" Sato began to say, before he broke off, frowning.

Zelda felt it too… an oppressive weight…

"You cannot teleport me to safety. That power has been disrupted," Zelda said wryly, reaching for her sword. It was a thin, light thing of terrible keenness. Many who saw it mistook it for a prop of royal station… but beyond a golden hilt and purple leather bindings, the weapon had no ornamentation that did not lend to functionality. It was a beautiful piece of smithcraft… but it did not attempt to impress, or awe with jewels and gaudy baubles. It was quite long and thin, appearing to be too frail and whimsical for anything but display. However, because it was so light, it could be wielded in one hand, or two… for it was a device of murder and death.

"It feels like… Shadow magic… but different…" Sato said, confused. He was the only one of his scattered clan within Hyrule Castle.

And the princess was correct. There was some kind of magical disharmony blanketing the castle and much of the nearby city. It was interfering with his abilities… a chaotic, fluctuating nebulousness… like trying to move within a windstorm.

"Prepare the Guard, assemble in the throne room," Zelda commanded, as she reached for her armor. To the naked eye, her armor consisted of only a pair of segmented golden pauldrons. They were beautifully worked to be sure… but hardly sufficient armor for going into battle. Those who could perceive magic though, would see the true strength of the artifacts… as nearly invisible bands and braces of power spread across her body, armoring her from head to toe more completely than anything of even Goron make.

"Should not the Queen be the one to order the muster?" Sato asked quietly.

"My mother already knows. She will meet us there," Zelda said softly, "Now go. Muster the Guardsmen!" Zelda snapped.

The sheikah man turned, and faltered, before taking off down the winding stair on foot. Clearly, he had attempted to teleport… which was second nature to the Shadow-kin.

More ominously, Zelda could not feel the strands of destiny. Normally, they sang softly on the edge of her perception, hinting at the consequences of her actions… a great strength to the Royal Family when ruling fairly and justly… but now… Zelda was uncertain of what to do. She was blind to the future… the castle shook, as the wards and enchantments within the walls activated… but Zelda could taste the magic on the air… and knew that the defenses would not hold for long against this threat.

((()))

Queen Visas knew death was near. Death for many… but even with her years of experience, the future was almost completely hidden from her by this fell power. King Oras was grumbling softly about the state the royal armorer had let his armor deteriorate too, about hinges and straps not fitting correctly anymore. He should know, he had been a blacksmith by trade, living in Castle Town.

The queen smiled softly… for her husband had not worn the armor in nearly ten years… and had grown slightly larger around the middle. But he was a kind man… so although given to vanity, he would never take food from the people's plates to support his own tastes. If he had been that kind of man, Visas never would have married him, nor let him anywhere _near_ a throne.

Nor given him two daughters.

Visas felt her eldest child enter the room, swathed in power.

Next to the sea of darkness that crashed against the gates… it was but a flickering candle.

But there was something off about this attack. Almost as if the darkness was… playing… with them. Sato entered the chamber as well, at a dead run, trailing the last of the soldiers from the reserve barracks.

"Form up with the others," King Oras called. The panting men nodded, and brushed between their fellows, chainmail and canvas tabards brushing mutedly. The throne room was a hundred meters long… but because it also served as the banquet hall, the excess served a useful purpose. The long, heavy trestles that had once held food and drink for the castle inhabitants were overturned without ceremony, and repositioned as barricades and choke points, acting as funnels for any invader that breached the main hall's great doors.

Dust drifted from the vaulted ceiling, as something shattered.

"The outer wards have failed," Sato said calmly, arms folded.

The enemy was within the castle grounds.

There was silence, for a time… then black smoke began to drift through the minute cracks and spaces around the doors… like water, almost. The closest torches flickered wildly, as if terrified… before the heavy wood of the doors exploded.

Darkness poured into the room, like cloying fog, extinguishing torches whenever encountered.

"Hold fast!" Oras shouted, his voice piercing the din… for men had begun to scream in pain and terror… as well as death. Things moved within the darkness, great, misshapen monsters, Sato saw… for he was Sheikah, and of the Shadow. Men stabbed blindly, trusting only in their fellows that they could touch around them, thrusting out ahead of their formations, hoping to strike the unseen foe.

Some were lucky, and their swords or spears struck enemy flesh. Most found empty air… and the rest found violent, rending, bloody death.

But these monsters were only a symptom. The true threat had not yet come forth.

So Sato did not leave Zelda's side. All were sworn to the defense of the Royal Family. The men below were simply fulfilling their oaths. Sato would do likewise… but he would spend his life as efficiently as possible.

But beside him, Sato could feel Zelda crying out, in helpless rage… blind in the darkness.

_"Enough,"_ a voice said sharply, and the darkness cleared within the hall, driven back, its power annulled. Queen Visas left her hand outstretched, as she channeled her power.

Men rallied, and took heart, their weapons drawing black blood from their enemies, the survivors falling back, and tightening their ranks, leaving half their number broken and sundered… the men redressed their ranks around the dais of the Royal Family with grim efficiency. The time to flee had long passed. All that was left, was to die well, or triumph.

**"Impressive, mortal," **a voice simpered from the roiling darkness, at the edges of the massive room. With each beat of Zelda's heart, the darkness crept closer once again, as her mother's power waned… closer and closer to the waiting men.

**"How long can you endure?" **the darkness wondered idly.

And then it came for them. And there was no escape. Nor triumph… and none died well.


	2. Chapter 2

Link opened his eyes, uncertain of what he'd been dreaming. There had been shadows, he thought… and a woman. At least, he thought it was a woman. He remembered blue eyes, but the figure had mostly been concealed beneath a gray cloak.

There might have been other people there… but he'd only seen the blue eyed creature.

With a shrug, the young man rose from the bed silently, and began hunting for his sandals in the pre-morning gloom, careful not to wake the others.

Then he remembered what day it was… and sighed.

((()))

Link leaned on his staff, and glanced at the noon sun, from beneath his wide straw hat. On the one hand, it was a rather ugly hat… but it had taken nearly two weeks for Link to get it right enough that it could be worn… so he wore it.

More importantly, it kept the sun off him better than a cloak's hood, because it still let a breeze through… and it wasn't like anyone would see him wearing it, so far from the village. Someone like Ilia. Or Fado.

"Link!" a boy cried out, and the young man swallowed his irritation. It wasn't the preteen's fault. He was trying to help.

"There's something in the trees!" Talo declared, pointing at the forest edge, roughly fifty meters from their position. Link dutifully scanned the foliage, but he didn't see anything…

Talo was "training" with Link today… since Fado was needed for building the new barn. Fado was nearly seven feet tall, and seemed to have some Goron blood (physically impossible) somewhere in his ancestry. As such, he could typically manhandle most timber beams into awkward places without assistance… which made him invaluable for such tasks.

Talo, on the other hand, was just shy of four feet in height, and a little past his tenth birthday. Old enough to start training as a shepherd.

Being a shepherd in Ordon province was different than other places in Hyrule. Most ranches didn't have Ordonian goats… some of which were of near equal size to a small cow… but it was the _horns_ that made them difficult to manage… and their occasional mulishness. They were still a far cry easier to manage than _sheep_ though. Link shuddered at the thought of running herd on a flock of _those_ idiots. The mayor of Soron village had gifted them some two years ago.

Sheep wool was softer than that of their goats… but all seven ewes (and the ram) had managed to drown themselves, get eaten, fall into ravines, or had simply disappeared within a month.

Ordon goats were only _mildly _domesticated. Link was the leader of _this_ flock… numbering eighteen at the moment. The nanny goats were sticking close to the pair of billy goats… but despite that, there was roughly ten meters of space between each goat as they grazed on the rough foliage this close to the Faron woods. If threatened, the goats would cluster, facing out, to stubbornly menace attackers with a ring of horns.

Which would leave Link, and Talo to harass and drive off whatever predator (on two legs or four) that had decided to attack the flock.

That's not to say an Ordon goat was _smart_… they just had common sense, and a decent survival instinct. _Unlike sheep_.

"There it is again!" Talo squeaked, his voice breaking in mid sentence, causing the boy to flush in embarrassment.

"As long as it stays in the trees, it can do as it pleases," Link said. There were a few tribes of bokoblins living in the Faron woods… but the diminutive golbinoids rarely ventured to the forest edge. They'd learned better than to tangle with the villagers… especially Link's uncle, Rusl. As such there was something of an uneasy, unspoken truce in place.

"But, Link, what if they have… _bows?_" Talo whispered the last word, as if afraid to give the unseen enemy ideas.

"Then I'll take care of it," Link said, patting the pouch of smooth stones tied to his belt, and the leather sling wrapped around his wrist.

Talo frowned, but subsided. For the moment.

The boy wanted to play hero… he didn't want to do anything as boring as shepherding… but occasionally, there _was_ violence in the fields. Link was a poor craftsman, but a _very_ good fighter… and he was patient. Which meant he was often left in charge of unruly kids… some on four legs, and some on two.

Since Talo had never seen a bokoblin before, beyond his father's stories and the occasional drawing, he tended to underestimate the monsters… thinking them little more than fodder for his imaginary stick-sword battles. His very loud, exuberant battles. Especially whenever Beth was around.

Link was _very_ glad that Beth loathed the goats, likely due to nearly being trampled once or twice… and because she couldn't boss them around like the other children.

More importantly, she avoided the goats, and be extension, Link, when he was watching a flock. Which was a relief, in many ways, since the thirteen year old was convinced that she was destined to be Link's wife. And that they would then move to the city, away from the nasty goats… to where people had nice things, and shiny shoes.

Since Beth could not be reasoned with on this topic, Link had taken to simply ignoring the flirtations.

And avoiding her. As well as encouraging Talo's affections for Beth.

Hopefully… _something_ would work.

Something _had _to work.

((()))

Rusl was sweating in the heat of the small forge, as he continued to work the emerging steel. This wasn't like his normal work, involving recasting broken iron plough and sickle blades, or making hinges and nails. This was a _weapon_, and the former soldier was using every last scrap of expertise in its forging. He made a sword every year, to send with the tithe of pumpkins, cheese, and wool, to the Royal family. Each year, his work had improved. He held no delusions though about the quality of his work. Rusl's blades were study, functional things, but lacked the grace or imagination of a smith that routinely forged swords.

Still, Rusl had seen his handiwork occasionally worn by a city guard or two, so although clearly not of sufficient quality for the royal guard, they were apparently more than adequate for the rank and file. It was nearly dusk, before the man relented, grudgingly satisfied. All that was left were minor touches… sharpening, wrapping the hilt… assembling a scabbard. Rusl removed the eye patch, and set it next to his work table. Like most smiths, he wore a patch, to protect an eye, incase he made a mistake. That way, at most, he'd lose _an_ eye, and not become _blind_.

But all of that could wait, for now. It was close to supper time.

((()))

"So, how did Talo do?" Rusl asked, trying to filch a roll from the basket that was still cooling. Uli deftly slapped his wrist with her ladle, not even batting an eye. She was nearly seven months pregnant, and had become… testy.

"He's eager enough… but easily distracted," Link said, carrying a stack of wooden bowls from the cupboard.

Colin, Link's nephew, remained silent, but as always, had a thoughtful look on his face. The eight year old boy was naturally quiet, but unusually observant. As such, he tended to run at the back of any pack Beth organized, unwilling to be out front, even if he was able to keep up with the older boys.

He could also catch more fish in an hour than Link could in a day.

"But is he perceptive?" Rusl asked.

"Perhaps. He claimed to keep seeing something in the trees… but I never noticed anything. He might have just been hoping to go thrash some monsters," Link said, uncertain.

"Well… from what I hear, Fado's still going to be needed for the rest of the week," Rusl said. This time, he succeeded in stealing a roll… but only because he kissed Uli first.

"Rusl. Those are still hot," Uli frowned, though a smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"I work with molten metal all day. I'm sure I'll survive a hot—_mph!"_ Rusl opened his mouth hastily, panting on the hot piece of bread in his mouth, juggling it with his tongue.

"I warned you," Uli sighed.

"She did," Link confirmed, inching closer to the basket of rolls, his stomach rumbling, while the others were distracted by Uncle Rusl's theatrics.

He bit into a roll, and realized Rusl _hadn't_ been exaggerating. They must have _just_ come out of the oven… as in _minutes_ ago. Collin watched his uncle / sort of big brother turn away, and hastily swallow the stolen bread in his mouth. It looked like it hurt.

((()))

Link met Talo several hours before dawn, and prodded the yawning boy along with his staff, as they moved around in the gloomy building that smelled strongly of goat. Eventually, they had the grouchy creatures up and moving in the hour before dawn, this time heading for the south-pass grazing area.

Link carried his breakfast and lunch in his carry-all, slung across his back. Talo likewise, had a canvas bag to hold his own meals for the day. As the sky brightened… Link noticed something sticking out of Talo's bag.

"Talo. Why did you bring your sword?" Link asked.

The boy had carved it from ironwood, just like Link's staff. It had taken him nearly two months to complete… and cracked three of his father's carpentry chisels… which was part of the reason Talo was working off the "dept" to Rusl, for reforging the chisels. (The village didn't really use currency, it operated on a favor/barter system).

"In case I see any more monsters," the boy said, puffing out his chest a little.

"And… we can practice too!" Talo said excited.

"And while we practice, who will watch the goats?" Link asked. Besides, he had come prepared this time. There were other things to do in the fields… which also wouldn't prevent a shepherd from keeping an eye on his surroundings.

When they had the herd positioned in the eastern field to Link's liking (also far from the forest edge Talo had been watching so carefully yesterday, to the _exclusion_ of the _goats_…) Link pulled out two simple reed flutes. It had only taken him an hour to carve them, last night after supper, with Colin's help.

"Music?" Talo asked, his facing falling a little. He'd been excited at first… thinking Link might teach him how to use a sling.

Link was brave, not stupid. He didn't want Talo _anywhere_ near him, or the goats, with a rock and sling. The wooden sword was bad enough. He'd given Colin a concussion last week by accident, after an errant swing hit Colin in the head. (The boy's sweaty hands had lost hold of the wooden, unwrapped handle, and the blade had gone flying during that swing). Talo had been "training" for several hours by that point, in the midday sun.

Simply put, Talo might train into Link or Rusl's equal _eventually_… but not as he was now. It would take time, time Link didn't have to spare at the moment. Talo had the energy, and enthusiasm… but lacked anything resembling precision or coordination.

Music was a far simpler, far safer alternative… and Link didn't need his eyes to finger the notes on the flute.

Besides… he felt ill at ease… and wished to keep his eyes open.

Something was not right.

((()))

"That was reckless," the sixteen year old girl snapped, fists planted on her hips, glaring up at the burly man that weighed roughly four or five times what she did. Only _some_ of it was fat… and only Fado was taller than he.

"There wasn't an alternative," Mayor Bo said, fighting to keep his stance calm.

Because she was right. He hadn't been thinking. He should have grabbed the yoke as it went past.

"You're not as young as you used to be," Ilia sighed, her worry turning from anger back to resignation.

"It was just a wagon," Bo said, shrugging… though she _thought_ the gesture might have been slightly _stiff_.

"It was rolling down hill," Ilia growled.

"Not very quickly… and it was only _half_ loaded," Bo said confidently.

Blocking the wagon cold had hurt his left shoulder though.

Ilia looked set to lay into him again though, her vividly green eyes flashing… when Bo saw an escape.

"Ho, there, Rusl!" Bo called out, enthusiastically, masking his rapid retreat into an attempt to catch up with the man.

"Mayor Bo?" Rusl asked, politely, stopping in mid stride.

"You've shut the smithy up early, I see," Bo said.

The ex-soldier knew what was going on.

But he didn't say anything, or mention the fact that 6'5 Bo was fleeing from his 5'3 daughter.

Good man.

"I feel ill at ease, Mayor… and besides, I've no pressing work at the moment," Rusl said.

Bo finally noticed that the man wasn't carrying a sword and shield _to_ the smithy.

He was wearing them.

"Expecting trouble?" Bo asked, serious, his daughter's ire forgotten.

"I'm not certain…" the soldier said, worried.

Bo had learned to trust Rusl's instincts. They had served the village well so far…

"Bokoblins?" Bo asked.

"I don't think so… but those clouds worry me," Rusl said, pointing to the north horizon.

"It's just a storm," Bo said, squinting. His eyes had never been good at a distance.

"I would agree… but the wind is coming from the south, yet those clouds are slowly approaching… and the air does not smell of rain…" Rusl observed.

Bo didn't know what to make of such a thing.

((()))

"What is it?" the masked creature asked his mate, clinging to the tree limb next to her. A casual observer might mistake him for a child, due to his build and stature… but any that saw his tail, or the green hue of his skin might begin to doubt that assessment… and certainly any that looked into his eyes would know for certain this was no child… as a Kokiri's eyes had no white… instead, the entire orb was colored, save for the black pupil. In this case, blue.

"A… terrible darkness…" Saria, Sage of the Forest whispered. She was the oldest of the Great Deku Tree's surviving children, and had become the guardian of the Kokiri forest with his passing… she was not certain of how long ago. Her people did not mark time as the Hylians did. To them, time was marked as day or night, and spring, summer, fall, or winter… for Kokiri were immortal.

There had been peace in the land for a very long time. No child had fled war during that interim… and the Kokiri's numbers had never been great. Many of her friends had died fighting the Dark Man a long time ago. And no new friends had come to play.

Before many of her oldest friends had died fighting to protect the entirety of the forest from the Dark Man's fire and axes… but the heart of the forest, the Lost Woods, and the place of magic that created kokiri and skull kids could not be burned, could not be felled… so Saria had decided to only protect the Lost Woods. As such, many thought the kokiri gone, as none now protected the majority of the forest edge from logging and other transgressions.

They were simply too few.

To Saria, the seasons of a year were like the hours in a day…

Peace was ending, it seemed. Soon, it would be war.

But the Hylians did not know of this.

She pitied them, for a moment.

But their lives were fleeting things. Only the forest endured.

((()))

**To kill you would be… unwise…** the creature chuckled. Cloaked in the twilight as it was, Zelda could only catch glimpses of its form; bulging, shrieking eyes… grotesquely long fingers… a mobile, ever questing tongue…

And it was strong. It had ripped Sato in half as easily as a child breaking a loaf of bread… and with the same perverse delight.

"How so?" Zelda asked, sitting upon the throne of her dead mother.

**I killed your mother. Her triforce fled. Into you. If I kill you…** the monster grumbled, trailing off in irritation. _You do not know where my sister is, fool… kill me, and you lose the Triforce of wisdom. _

It wanted to kill her. To devour her as it had her comrades. Even now, Zelda could perceive the thoughts and memories being digested, incorporated, twisted, within the creature's gut.

This thing did not feed upon flesh and offal… but on the _spirits _of its victims.

It was a forbidden magic. An outside magic.

**Ah… so you know then…** the monster chuckled. The _Interloper_.

Zelda's gaze spread to the other roaming shadows within the great hall, as if questing for more prey to devour. They were smaller, less intelligent, but no less cruel for it. Like starved dogs.

**There is little to sate our hunger within the Twilight… except each other. Only the strongest survived there… **the monster said, pacing, circling Zelda.

Zelda heard a woman scream in terror deeper within the castle, before it suddenly cut off wetly. The beasts turned their heads in unison, towards the sound… before returning to their pacing, cheated.

Zelda stood, and walked past the monster, ignoring it. It bristled, and made as if to lash her with its terrible fingers… but thought better of the action.

Zelda stopped before her fallen sword. It's blade had been shattered, snapped in half. The princess (now queen, she supposed), picked up her hilt, and turned to face the monster.

"Your monsters will cease to devour my people. They will cease at once," Zelda commanded sharply.

**I broke your blade. A hilt cannot pierce my flesh,** the monster laughed.

"No. It cannot," Zelda agreed… before the blade darted to her own throat, "But it can pierce _mine_," she hissed. The magically keen blade had parted a line of red across her throat, just from the act of touching her skin. It wasn't deep… little more than a scratch. But a flick of her wrist… literally a flick, for that was how little force would be needed, and Zelda's life blood would be pouring out across the stones of the great hall.

The monster froze, staring at her.

**You would cease to be. You are not Twili. You will not come back, **the monster said, confused.

"You will stop killing my people!" Zelda roared, her voice almost as sharp as her blade. She could not see the results of her actions. The future was hidden from her still.

**I do not understand. Why would you do this? If you cease to be, you will not care if I eat your people. You will cease to be…**

"Perhaps, but _they_ will not cease to be!" Zelda retorted.

**If you cease to be… it will take me longer… but I will find the prize again. **

"Then kill me and have done!" Zelda snapped.

The monster considered her for nearly three minutes, alien thoughts flickering behind its orange eyes.

**You are… interesting. Unpredictable. I will eat you last, I think…**

The monster… it had been stalling.

Strong shadow limbs snared her wrists from behind. She should have put her back to a wall.

The sword was ripped from her hand, she lost a few fingernails in the process.

She had failed.

((()))

Link held up a hand, and Talo gratefully stopped screeching on the flute.

Link slowly turned his head, scanning the herd again.

They were restless… and had begun to clump together.

Something was spooking them. Casually, Link uncoiled the sling from his wrist…

The attack was sudden. Coordinated… almost professional, seven shapes bursting from the tall grass that ran along the river bank that hemmed in this pasture.

The warriors were roughly five feet tall with arms that reached their knees… and they moved with the distinctive arm-swinging movement of their species… but they weren't tribal bokoblins.

These were the more advanced, more intelligent bulblins.

They weren't armed with clubs either… these had leather armor, knives, one-handed axes, and even a shield or two…

Link whistled sharply, and the billies bellowed, tossing their horns.

The shepherd grabbed Talo by the scruff of the neck and ran, plunging into the center of the goats, and climbing up onto a billy goat's back. It hardly noticed him.

"Stay here!" Link shouted in Talo's ear, and the boy hastily nodded, fisting the goat's fur to stay seated.

Link squeezed out past the goats, and seated a rock in his sling. He couldn't throw from within the herd, not with all the goats tossing their heads.

He spun up, let the leather thong circle his head thrice, in a well practiced routine, which sounded like a very irritated hornet, before he released. A goblinoid without a helmet fell, as if it had been cut off at the knees, or poleaxed, instantly sprawling in the grass.

He had time to sling twice more, before the frustrated scouting party turned from their attempts to get at Talo, and instead focused on Link… and it was a scouting party. They were too lightly equipped for a dedicated raid…

They closed with Link. He leaned away from a knife thrust, and brought his loaded sling across his attacker's face, the stone cracking audibly just beneath the monster's eye, probably causing some damage to the underlying bone.

Then Link let go of the sling, and readied his staff. One warrior hacked at him confidentially… only to stare, dumb founded, when the axe _did not_ break the staff. Link rotated his hips as he moved, capitalizing on momentum and leverage, so his counter blow took the axe-wielder off his feet… Link stabbed down with his staff, planting the tip directly into the stunned monster's sternum, cracking more bone, and curling the enemy up into a ball of pain.

That left two uninjured bulblins… followed by a staggering raider, the one Link had struck below the eye.

"Yah!" Talo howled, charging the injured bulblin.

"Talo!" Link barked, his stomach lurching, _that little idiot—_

Injured didn't mean _helpless_.

A wooden sword was a poor match against an iron knife.

Link had to pass between the two advancing raiders. He dodged the startled strikes (suffering a graze to his shoulder by a knife).

The injured bulblin had turned to Talo, and was baiting the boy, wilting before the charge, keeping its knife hand hidden from view… to all appearances ready to collapse with the faintest breath of wind.

Talo was too focused on his fantasy.

Then Link's staff swung through the air, held like a claymore in a vicious, two-handed strike that connected solidly with the back of the creature's neck.

Link didn't stop there, he continued the swing, so that it brought him back around, making the two enemies behind him jump back, to avoid the weapon. One lost hold of its swinging axe… either through accident, or design. The airborne weapon struck Link on the hip, somewhat deflected by the layers of cloth there, intended to protect from casual collisions with goat horns. Not axes.

And it hurt.

Link grunted, and charged, bringing his staff up in a high guard. He had greater reach, and more muscle than either of the bulblins… and they knew it.

They were smart.

They ran.

And Link couldn't follow. He planted the staff, and leaned heavily on it, watching the stupid creatures run right for the distant forest.

The bokoblins were territorial. They wouldn't tolerate trespassers.

Then he sat down, heavily, sprawling onto his left side.

"Talo. Get. Ilia," Link growled, pressing down heavily on his wound. It was bleeding, more from the length of the gash than from deepness or severity.

For once, Talo didn't have anything to say. But his eyes were very, very large.

Link was fairly certain he would run the entire way too.

Link just hoped he'd survive _after_ Ilia was finished with him.

A few of the bulblins were groaning and whimpering as they regained some of their senses… but the rest were either unconscious, or dead. The one with the broken sternum was making enough noise for both of them. Link's staff was at hand… if he needed it… but it would hurt to move. He'd wait, to see if it became a problem.

If it did… he'd take care of it.

((()))

"Monsters! Monsters in. The east pasture!" Talo panted, stumbling to a halt in front of Mayor Bo.

"Link?" Bo demanded.

"Hurt. He said. Get Ilia," Talo choked out, looking fit to expire on the spot. Poor lad must have sprinted the whole way.

Ilia burst from Bo's house, fumbling her salves and poultices into her carry-all,

"Hanch, get Epona ready!" she called.

The squint-eyed beekeeper let go of the wheelbarrow he'd been pushing, loaded with pots of honey, nodded, and ran for the stables.

When Ilia said to do something, you did it.

No one argued with Ilia… at least, not more than once.

((()))

Link watched the bulblin closely, hand on his staff. It was starting to realize how close Link was… and it _knew_ the perpetrator of its agony. At the moment, it was content to wallow and moan… but there was a nasty gleam forming in those amber eyes.

Link bared his teeth mirthlessly. He could kill it, if he needed too… but it would hurt him. The gash wasn't closing up. Standing would likely tear what little scab had formed…

But he could do it.

It was simply stupid to do it at this time.

Then Link heard panicked honking noises. He turned his head, and rose up slightly on his elbow, to look over the grasses… and paled.

A bleeding bulblin was scrambling towards Link, having abandoned its weapons, and was using its arms _and_ legs for locomotion. Behind it streamed three or four bokoblins, armed with wooden clubs and loincloths… their ashy, ropy hair bound by leather ties… all in earnest pursuit of the trespasser.

Link scowled, and stood, leaning heavily on his staff to do so… and did not touch his hip. The bulblin tripped over a branch, hidden in the grass… the bokoblins arrived just as it rose… and began to pummel it energetically. The squalling, blubbering creature was quickly killed… though its death was far from swift, or easy. Murder accomplished, the monsters scented the air, noticing Link's scent.

They stared at him silently. His scent was known to them… as was the staff he leaned on. Warily they drew back, unnerved.

Link grinned, showing his teeth.

Many had described _that_ particular smile as predatory.

Wolves had similar smiles… before they tore out their victim's throat.

But the bokoblins could smell Link's blood. This wolf was wounded. Outnumbered…

But still dangerous.

He had not trespassed.

He was a threat… but not to their territory.

The bokoblins reluctantly withdrew, dragging the broken bulblin by the wrists.

They would eat well tonight.

((()))

Ilia slid off Epona's broad back, stumbling a little from the rapid dismount. Link was sitting with his back against a low boulder, staff planted like a flag pole beside him.

"Be careful," Link warned her, using his chin to point out a nearby bulblin, curled in a ball.

Then she saw the blood. Some of it had dried… but it practically _covered_ his right leg, sheeting down from his hip…

"Link…" Ilia breathed, startled.

"It's just a cut… but it won't stop bleeding," he grimaced.

The girl dropped down beside the shepherd. She rummaged in her bag; pulling out pouches of herbs, small pots of ointment, clean bandages, and a sharp knife.

"Don't cut it, look, I can pull it open," Link said hastily, tugging at the slits in the cloth over his hip. He was terrible at repairing clothes… part of the reason his current attire had so many patches.

"Keep pressure on it, I'm not ready," Ilia snapped, pushing his bloody hands back down over the cloth.

She returned to mixing the ointments and some herbs from a pouch into a rather nasty looking unguent.

Link wrinkled his nose at the smell, but said nothing.

Besides, he could see her mouth pressed into a flat, hard line, and her eyes were flashing. She wasn't angry. She was _furious_.

She always became such, when _Link_ was hurt. Which happened fairly regularly, between his profession, and the situations he invariably found himself in. Typically _violent _situations.

"Okay. Move your hands," Ilia said, poised over his hip. Link peeled the padded cloth open, revealing the entirety of the wound. In that brief moment, Ilia noted the general shape and quality of the wound, almost abstractly. It was deepest in the valley between hip and belly, before growing shallower, as it followed the curve of the hip, finishing part way down the thigh partway.

"What did this?" Ilia asked, quickly pressing the pieces of ointment smeared cloth down over sections of cut.

Link hissed at the bite of the medicine, but grunted, "Axe."

Ilia pulled Link's bloody legging down, so that she could wind a bandage over the dressing, to secure it. Getting the dressing secured over his hip was more difficult, but possible. By the end of it, her hands were stained red.

"Help me up," Link said. Ilia scowled, but threw one of Link's arms across her shoulders, helping him stand without putting weight on the injured leg. He took his staff, and shrugged off Ilia's help.

"Stay there," he said.

"You aren't walking back," Ilia growled.

"I know," he said, carefully kneeling next to the injured bulblin, keeping his hip straight. He pulled his utility knife from the back of his belt, and slit the monster's throat.

Then he carefully stood.

"That wasn't necessary," Ilia said coldly.

"It was a threat. I took care of it," Link replied, just as coldly.

Ilia glared at the boy she cared so much for… he simply looked back at her calmly. He didn't know. His eyes saw so much of the world… he noticed so many things… rarely surprised by his environment… but he didn't _know_ how she felt.

And that hurt. Because Ilia didn't know if it was because he simply didn't see it… or if it was because he didn't feel as she did… or _could not_ feel as she did.

Ilia helped Link sit on Epona's back, sideways, behind her on the saddle. She kept Epona to little more than a walk, careful not to jostle Link, who's arm as wrapped very tightly around her waist.

He was often cold and heartless when the situation demanded… but she had seen what lay within. He was _good_. In the unguarded moments, when he didn't have to be strong, to keep others safe… when he could be himself… she had seen him playing with the village children. The honest laughter, the smile…

He killed without hesitation… but only when he believed it necessary. He did not take pleasure in it, she thought… but it did not bother him either.

Mostly though, she was angry with herself.

She could not tell this boy she loved him.

She had loved him since they were children.

She loved him, because he was gentle, at heart.

And she bled for him, because he could not be gentle in this world.


	3. Chapter 3

"Anything new?" Bo asked, as the mail courier slid off his horse. The painfully skinny man adjusted his hat, as he searched through the side bags on his horse.

"Hmm… well, I've got… lets see… three… letters," he mumbled, somehow pulling three pieces of folded parchment from the mess of papers.

"One for you… one for your daughter… and—"

"You're not going back out tomorrow!" someone snapped. Both men tried to look as small as possible.

"Who's going to watch the goats if I don't?" Link asked, as he leaned on his staff heavily, slowly limping towards Rusl's house.

"Fado and Talo can take care of it," Ilia asserted.

Link stopped, and stared at Ilia.

"That's not a good idea," Link pointed out.

Bo agreed. Vehemently.

"I don't want you on that leg tomorrow," Ilia said firmly.

"And I'd rather not have the goats running amok," Link said quietly… _almost_ too quietly to hear. Almost.

"Those goats will get along without you for _one_ day," Ilia snapped.

"It's the _fences_ I'm worried about," Link replied.

"No goats," Ilia said with finality.

Link sighed. No one argued with Ilia. Not successfully.

((()))

"I saw the courier was here," Ilia said, finding Bo sitting in his chair, squinting at the small letters on the page.

"Three letters… this is… _another_ complaint from Mayor Fran…" Bo realized. He could read. Slowly.

"Same complaint?" Ilia asked.

"…yes," Bo decided.

"If it bothers him so much, why doesn't he fix it?" Ilia asked, curious.

"Because he's not going to change his sign," Bo grunted.

Everyone called it Ordon Village, but it was really just a ranch. Some wiseass had made a sign that read _The_ Ordon Village, since originally the ranch didn't have a sign. He'd intended to take the sign down… but hadn't gotten around to it. Needless to say, this had caused some confusion, and the Mayor of Ordon Village, (with a population of three hundred) perhaps twelve miles distant, had heard about it… and had ordered Bo to change the sign.

Bo was a very large, very passive aggressive man.

He hadn't changed the sign.

Bo handed the parchment to Ilia, she could scrape and treat the page to remove the ink… and she was always using parchment for her notes on herbs and whatnot. Parchment was expensive… which was another good reason to keep the sign up. It ensured at least a page of parchment a week… sometimes two, if Mayor Fran was feeling particularly irritated.

"If Fado is watching the goats… I'm going to have to help with the barn," Bo told his daughter.

"Hanch said all the heavy parts were done," Ilia protested.

"The cross beams weren't seated properly," Bo informed her.

"We can use ropes and pulleys for that," Ilia said.

"That'll take time… and it looks like that storm will be here in the next couple days. If we keep that many goats in the main barn, they're going to break out during a storm from fear… and if the storm lasts more than a couple days there won't be anything _left_ of the barn," Bo said grimly.

Ilia nodded, taking the second letter, the one addressed to her.

"Who had the third letter?" Ilia asked, curious.

"Hanch. Something about bees," Bo shrugged. He liked the honey… but the bees themselves didn't like him… so he stayed away from Hanch's hives.

"So… how bad is it?" Bo asked his daughter.

He didn't have to clarify what _it_ was. He might be near sighted, but he could see that Ilia was thinking of something else at the moment. Or rather, someone else.

"The bleeding has stopped, and I cleaned the wound. But it obviously _hurts_… and he's going to try and sneak out, to help watch the herd tomorrow," Ilia sighed. Here, with only her father, Bo saw beneath the sharp words. He saw the worry.

"He's had worse. Remember when that goat broke his arm?" Bo reminded her.

"I know," Ilia said ruefully, "It's just… I'd rather my knowledge of healing didn't come from practicing on Link."

"He probably doesn't mind," Bo chuckled. For some reason, that made Ilia blush.

((()))

The day after an injury always hurt more, Link knew.

Still, that morning was… _interesting. _

Especially when he began hunting for his sandals.

He'd left them on the chair so he wouldn't have to bend over…

But they were gone. Link frowned, and searched the dark room, again, mostly by touch, which required a rather awkward position to keep his leg from stabbing him in new and eye-watering ways.

Very well… he could technically go barefoot, he supposed…

His carry-all was missing too.

And his sling.

And the pouch of stones.

Link scowled.

_Ilia_.

((()))

"Good morning Link. Since you won't be watching the goats, I thought you might be willing to help _me_," Ilia said brightly. Link focused on what was dangling from her thumb.

His sandals.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a sister," Link muttered darkly, taking the sandals with poor grace.

Ilia's smile turned wintry.

He was used to it.

((()))

"I was thinking… last year Fado and Hanch took the tithe to the castle…" Bo said slowly.

"And this year you want… who?" Rusl asked, bemused. That had nearly ended in disaster. Both had a terrible sense of direction.

"Ilia has been exchanging letters with a physician in castle town, and would like to compare books… she wanted Link to come with her, but his leg, being as it is… he'd be of limited use protecting the wagons…" Bo said.

"And the children have been hounding you all month to see the castle," Rusl grimaced. Not _all_ the children. Just Beth… but she'd organized the other children as ruthlessly as any general into a merciless campaign of nagging and whining.

"I'd like to send them along… perhaps gain some peace and quiet… for three weeks, at any rate," Bo sighed.

"And if Beth refuses to leave the city?" Rusl asked.

"Would that be such a terrible thing?" Bo wondered. He honestly wasn't sure. Sera, Beth's mother, would certainly attempt to kill Bo in such an event… but still…

((()))

Link wrapped the herbs in the string, then hung the tied bundle from the drying rack. He was nearly twitching with anxiety… he had no idea how badly the goats were behaving. Not knowing was worse.

Ilia watched Link with mounting frustration. He wouldn't stay still. He kept getting up, pacing to the edge of the porch, and would glance, worried, up the road that led to the southern pasture.

Yes, he was helping her prepare the herbs and plants… but he was aggravating his injury too. She'd meant for him to do something that would occupy his hands, and his mind, but not his legs. At this rate, he was putting more exertion on his leg than if he'd just been standing around, watching the goats.

"Fine!" Ilia snapped, tossing down the bundle of grasses in her hands.

"Grab your staff," she growled, moving towards the stable with Epona.

"Thank you," Link said.

The depth of sincerity in those two, softly spoken words made her trip a little in the dirt as she stalked away.

But he didn't notice. He was preoccupied.

((()))

All was not as it should be. Link saw that immediately. There were only six goats in the pasture… two-thirds of the herd was missing… as were its two shepherds.

"The billies must have bolted… taking most of the herd with them…" Link hissed, frustrated. They'd burst the pasture's fence as well…

Link shifted position behind Ilia, so that he was standing sideways in the right stirrup, all of his weight on his good left leg, clinging to the saddle-pack with his left hand… as he leaned out, scanning the ground as they passed. It was also more comfortable for his right leg, since it was straight now, and didn't have any weight on it.

Ilia didn't use stirrups anyway. It's not that she couldn't, she simply didn't like them.

Link didn't like what he saw.

"A large number of tracks lead into the forest," He reported.

Ilia nodded. She wasn't a tracker.

"Do you have my sling?" Link asked pointedly.

"Yes," Ilia said, reaching into her carry-all.

"—and my knife?" Link pressed.

Ilia reached back into her carry-all.

Ilia cocked her head… a distant noise wafted at the edge of hearing. It sounded like—

Link shoved two fingers into his mouth and returned the whistle, loud enough to deafen Ilia for a moment.

"Let's go," Link said sharply, pointing with his staff.

"Climb back on," Ilia ordered.

"I can get off faster this way," Link argued.

"Especially when aided by a passing tree limb," Ilia snapped.

"Don't run into any trees then," Link advised.

The whistle drifted through the air again.

"Now," Link said.

((()))

Fado kept Talo behind him. This was a bad idea. But it had sounded like a good idea. That it was Talo's idea should have been a warning sign, Fado acknowledged.

Another bokoblin lunged forward, and Fado dealt it the same treatment as its predecessor. He slapped the descending wooden cudgel aside with one large hand, grabbed the creature's bundle of white dreadlocks, and threw it like a bola. In a field, the creature might have traveled thirty feet.

This was a forest though… with lots of things to crash into… things far less yielding than dirt and grass.

"Yah!" Talo howled, starting to lunge out from behind the giant, wooden sword in hand.

Fado wasn't the _smartest_ in the village… but he had quick hands.

A moment later, Talo was behind Fado again, where he belonged.

Link was coming. Fado had heard the return whistle.

Until then, Fado would make sure nothing bad happened… at least, nothing bad to _them_.

The problem was the bokoblins. They just wouldn't accept that they couldn't beat down Fado.

Consequently, they might succeed through sheer stubbornness… and a couple of them had knives… and axes… probably from the cannibalized bulblins.

Fado could hear some rather strange bird calls overhead, but he didn't have time to see what kind of bird was making the noises.

A lot more bokoblins were arriving too though.

Too many.

"Talo, RUN!" Fado roared, grabbing two bokoblins by their belts, and throwing them backwards into their reinforcements.

Too many! Too m—

Talo ran. He ran as he never had before.

Because it finally dawned on him, as he saw an axe bite into Fado's massive shoulder.

He was going to die.

He wasn't the hero.

And this wasn't one of dad's bedtime stories.

Talo ran away. For a long time.

Something he'd bragged to Beth… that he'd never run away. He wasn't a chicken. He was brave!

Yeah… that was probably a lie.

Talo tripped, and skinned his knee. But he didn't cry.

They might hear him.

He didn't move, he just breathed, fighting to do so as quietly as possible.

It was harder than he thought…

But he couldn't hear anything. He peeked up from the dirt with quick, furtive motions.

He could see dirt, tree roots, and ferns…

No monsters.

Dad said bokoblins couldn't climb very well… so Talo thought it would be a good idea to get as high as possible… so he could see which way the edge of the forest was.

He picked a tree with a lattice of vines growing up its bark… some were anchored poorly, and tore free… but the thicker ones held. It was hard, but Talo was _very motivated_.

He took a break half-way up, surrounded by leaves. He was safe, the monsters wouldn't be able to see him up here… not from the ground.

"You're bleeding on the tree," a voice pointed out, annoyed. Talo spun around, and came nose to nose with a snarling creature. He screamed (like a girl, but he wasn't thinking about that), and tried to get away.

Into empty air.

((()))

Fado kept his back to the tree, warily eying the creatures that had encircled him.

They were hunting him like a bear… with spears. And he couldn't really lift his right arm. He could still raise and move his forearm, but he couldn't move his shoulder… couldn't thrust out. A spear came at his throat. He managed to grab the weapon, just behind the head, and push back, throwing the bokoblin off balance… but he didn't have the leverage to break off the spearhead, or yank it from its wielders grip. Not with just one hand.

More spears were coming. He let go… and slapped another spear aside…

More spears. Even knives tied to sticks…

More spears.

And the birds were getting louder.

((()))

Zelda remained sitting within her personal chambers, by her luxurious glass window. A window that gave her an unimpeded view of her fallen capital. A capital that seemed to grow darker with every passing hour… as those that once held fealty to her family fought… and died.

"_Why are you sad?"_ the little girl asked, from where she sat in a corner of the room… playing with some of Zelda's childhood dolls.

Zelda did not speak.

Porcelain clattered on stone… and Zelda ignored that as well. The little girl studied the decapitated doll in her hand curiously, then picked up the severed head, and turned it over.

_"Play with me," _the little girl complained.

Zelda did not.

The small child casually closed her hand… and when it opened the porcelain head was gone… reduced to a nightmarish mixture of shadow and sludge, the dripped carelessly to mar the beautiful wooden floor.

_"Play a game with me…" _the dead echo of little Ilisa whined.

An echo… of a murdered child. An echo that was rapidly mutating, as the creature digested her spirit… and incorporated her into itself. She could see the monster peek out, from time to time… leering… hungry.

Zelda instead chose to turn her gaze to the horizon… and not upon her jailor. Killing it would serve her no purpose… regardless, her powers had been negated somehow. She supposed she could blind it with a sharpened quill… but saw little point in it… as the abomination would heal its wound within minutes.

**"**_**Play with me!"**_Ilisa screamed, a terrible mix of petulant child and diseased spirit, the interloper leapt onto the windowsill, blocking Zelda's view, snarling with misshapen, serrated teeth… something the precocious child had never possessed in life.

Zelda stared into the eyes of literal darkness.

"I would sooner die, I think," she hissed, the sheer intensity of her hatred causing the monster to rear back in surprise.

"_I'll play with you,"_ a voice offered… before a tentacle snared the jailor, and dragged it out the window.

The unseen voice sounded… hungry.

The scream cut off wetly a moment later.

((()))

Link did not whistle again. He could hear the screams. Fado was close.

Ilia could hear them as well, and urged Epona to greater speed… despite the trees. It was a stupid thing to do… they might easily be unhorsed by any of the tree limbs whipping past, and then _no one_ would come to Fado's aid.

But take too long, and they would do Fado no good either.

A branch laid open Link's cheek as he lean out of its path. They crested a small hill in the track beneath the trees, and Link knelt heavily on the stirrup, his bad leg hitting the ground, and making him hiss… but his teeth were clenched too tightly to actually yelp, and Ilia did not hear. His eyes focused on something else beneath the green twilight.

Fado.

The giant was leaning against a tree, panting heavily, blood running freely from several wounds. Bokoblins stood arrayed before him in a semi-circle, but they had pulled back, with hasty spears, milling in agitation and fear.

Sticking from the dirt in front of Fado were a dozen objects…

Short arrows… their shafts were angled, as if from a high vantage point.

"Gee! Gee!" Ilia cried, pulling back on the reins. Epona planted her powerful, massive hooves, trying to slow down, obeying the bridal, and the voice commands to _halt_… preferably _before_ running into the midst of armed enemies. Link lost his staff in the desperate scramble to keep from flying forward.

With the sudden appearance of the horse, the bokoblins fled. They knee Epona's hooves… had seen them, and (a few) had even felt them before.

Link hastily let go of Epona, (he was practically hanging by his arms from the saddle anyway, toes inches above the ground), and limped towards his staff.

"Watch out," Fado croaked, hand clamped to a wound on his neck. Link froze in his crouch, despite the agony it caused his leg, fingers inches from his staff.

A foot rested upon his staff. A green foot… like that of a child. And something sharp was pricking at his throat warningly.

Ilia stared at the child-like warrior, replete with snarling wooden mask and bark armor…

And this creature held a dagger of stone… pressed against Link's throat.

It seemed that more than just bokoblins called this forest home.

Bird calls filled the air… but the song matched no bird Ilia knew.

Signals.

This creature was not alone. It looked up, as if startled by a command.

"Go away," the creature commanded, stepping back, frustrated. It motioned to Fado as well, pointing in the direction of the forest edge.

"We cannot," Link grunted, slowly picking up his staff.

"Go now!" the creature barked.

"A boy is missing. We cannot leave without him," Ilia explained quickly, terrified of a short arrow suddenly sprouting from Link's chest.

The creature raised a hand, and Link could hear the creak of bows being drawn in the trees… a lot of bows.

They would do Talo no good if they were dead.

"Link," Ilia urged softly.

But the one she loved understood already the cold truth of the situation.

Link helped steady Fado, as the giant weakly climbed onto Epona… and the group retreated. For now.

((()))

"You can't leave," the monster said.

"Why not?" Talo demanded.

"This is the Lost woods. Any child that enters here belongs to the Kokiri," the monster shrugged.

"You're going to… eat me?" Talo whispered, terrified.

"No," the monster replied, irritated.

"Then why can't I leave?" Talo whined.

"Because there are not enough Kokiri as it is… and there have been no lost children for a long, long time," the monster said, sounding almost… sad.

"I want to go home."

The monster looked at Talo for a long moment. "So do we."

Then it took Talo by the wrist, and led him deeper beneath the trees. Unknown to Talo, his were not the only tears to fall upon the leafy loam.

This was the Forest of the Lost… but not all had become Lost by choice.

((()))

"We can't just leave him there!" Jaggle cried, pounding a meaty fist into his palm. He was a little shorter than Link, but his shoulders half-again as broad, most of it muscle.

"We don't even know what _they_ are," Ilia retorted.

"What difference does it make?" Jaggle asked, exasperated.

"It makes all the difference… if they are Kokiri," Mayor Bo said, finally speaking up from a corner of his house… which had been designated for this meeting.

"What is a Kokiri?" Link asked, looking to his uncle, but Rusl shook his head, he was unfamiliar with the word as well.

"This was not always the Faron Forest… once, it had a different name, the Kokiri Forest," Bo said, scratching at his head. He barely remembered his grandmother's bed-time tales… the details had become hazy, and blurred.

"What are Kokiri?" Pergie asked sharply, as Bo's silence stretched.

"I'm not exactly sure… I only heard a few stories of them, from my grandmother…" Bo said uneasily.

"If they _are_ Kokiri," Ilia reminded Pergie.

Bo scowled, concentrating.

"They… are forest spirits… or demons… I can't remember which, but they live somewhere in the forest. Nobody knows what they look like… but they are dangerous to adults that trespass within their territory… I can't remember if they have any specific powers… I know they use arrows…" Bo trailed off, trying to separate true memories from half-guessed thoughts.

"What do they do to children?" Jaggle demanded.

"I don't think they kill them… but I think they might steal them… maybe," Bo shrugged helplessly.

Pergie wailed in frustration, clearly desperate to damage something, anything, to get her son back.

((()))

"I don't want to be one of you. I want to go home," Talo cried, trying hard not to cry. He wasn't crying because he was a sissy… he couldn't help it. Not see mom or dad again? Ever?

The girl (and it was a girl, even if she was weird looking and had a tail), that had taken him by the wrist scowled at him. She'd lifted her wooden mask earlier.

"You don't have a choice. Magic protects the Lost Woods… it prevents those that enter from leaving… unless they are Kokiri, or a skull kid," the girl snapped.

Talo yanked his hand away from the girl's.

"No! I'm going home!" he shouted, his terror flashing from despair to rage.

"You will become lost without me," the girl warned, crossing her arms.

"I don't care, you're mean, and _I'm_ bigger than _you_," Talo threatened, backing away.

"I have killed bokoblins before… even moblins. They're bigger and meaner than you," the girl snorted.

Talo turned, and ran.

Cali watched as the boy fled into the deepening gloom. She wished she could go home… but both it, and her family were gone. There likely was no sign of where her house had even stood… nor where her family had been killed. Their bones had turned to dust long ago.

She wished she could go home.

But she had no home.

Unlike the boy she had watched from the forest edge.

She was alone.

((()))

"We drove off some bokoblins… and a few of the goat-people," Mido said.

"Mmm…" Saria said, studying the distant clouds. The darkness was drawing near.

"One of them… bore a striking resemblance… to our son," Mido said, uncomfortable.

"Ookan?" Saria asked, surprised. The hybrid kokiri lacked the green pigmentation of his parents… instead his flesh was brown and pebbled, like bark itself… the only _born_ kokiri… born of Saria's magic, and not biology… as their bodies had never been intended to carry children.

"No… our _first_ son…" Mido said hollowly.

"Link…" Saria smiled fondly… thinking of the foundling… also long dead. He had grown old, and died, in the arms of his wife… a woman of horses and fiery hair.

His children and grandchildren used to visit the forest… to play. But like all things, Saria and Mido had eventually been forgotten with the passage of time.

"You don't think…"

"He could be a descendant… he carries the blood of a Knight," Mido said, holding up his stone dagger… the tip black with dried blood.

"And his name is Link," the kokiri finished. It was a common name, however.

"One of the goat-children is lost in the forest," Mido prodded.

"If he _is_ the descendant of _our_ Link… he will return," Saria nodded slowly.

((()))

Rusl's hands moved with ease from long practice, as he donned his chainmail and leather armor. Link stood by, waiting, armed in his usual fashion…

Although he also carried a satchel of torches as well.

Ilia watched the two, fear clenching her stomach.

"If you don't intend to fight the kokiri, then why the armor?" Ilia asked sharply.

"The kokiri are not the only foes we may encounter," Rusl pointed out levelly.

"Will Link's presence _really_ make such a difference in a fight? He cannot run," Ilia pointed out.

"I do not know where you encountered the foe… and he is a better tracker than I," Rusl said patiently, as he finished tightening the straps on his leather cuirass.

The mayor's daughter remained quiet, as the two warriors departed their home… both girded for conflict.

Ilia felt another stab of fear. Link looked so vulnerable, next to his armored uncle.

_Be safe_… Ilia prayed.

((()))

Rusl followed his nephew into the forest, he too carried a satchel of torches, but they remained unlit. Only one needed a light… and a torch was awkward to carry with shield and sword in hand. They followed the trail for an hour… the tracks difficult to miss in the torchlight… but they were slowed for a different reason. At some point, two pairs of tracks would diverge from the slurry of goat tracks… and those would not be so deep, nor hard to miss.

Occasionally eye shine would flare from the darkness… bokoblins… but none dared attack, not with Link _and_ Rusl together.

At least, not without greater numbers.

"Here," Link said softly, pointing. He followed Fado's prints… and other signs of passage, disturbed branches, broken or snapped…

Link held up a hand, halting his uncle.

"We were confronted, there," Link whispered, pointing twenty paces ahead of them.

"Find Talo's tracks…" Rusl replied, rolling his shoulders… in preparation for the possibility of combat.

Link drew close to the invisible, perceived border that marked the presumed kokiri's territory… but did not have to cross it before he found the tracks he sought.

These tracks wore shoes.

_Talo_.

Link signaled Rusl, and they resumed the hunt.

((()))

"Link!" Talo yelled, as he walked, his voice turning hoarse.

"Link!"

Link would come… or Rusl. Or his dad… they would find him.

Someone would find him.

And someone did.

"You're going the wrong way," the forest girl said.

"Leave me alone," Talo snapped.

"You're going in circles," she teased.

"No I'm not!" Talo argued.

"You are not of the Forest… but soon… you will be. Soon the magic will finish taking root within you… and whether you wish it or not… you will be one of us," the forest girl sneered.

Talo picked up a rock and threw it at her. She moved, slightly, and the rock missed. She stepped back, disappearing into the dark.

Leaving Talo alone.

In the dark.

"Dad!" Talo screamed, volume restored by fear… as the forest pressed in on him… hungry. Stalking… crawling up behind him…

Talo broke into a run.

((()))

Rusl staggered, and thrust out a hand, steadying himself against a tree.

"Uncle… what's wrong?" Link asked, turning back.

"I'm not sure. I feel—"

Rusl vomited, little more than bile, drenching the ferns beside him.

"Cursed?" a voice asked, amused.

Link spun, raising the torch. It illuminated another of the "kokiri"…

"What did you do to him?" Link demanded.

"Long ago, our forest was nearly destroyed. We have increased the defenses that protect our lands since then… so that none may achieve that feat again," the creature shrugged.

"He has simply strayed within the outermost of those wards—" the creature drew closer, "—as have you. Strange that you are not also afflicted…"

"We have no quarrel with you. We seek a missing child," Link said coldly, fingers tightening on his staff.

"Any child that enters here becomes lost… doomed to wander until they too sing the forest song," the creature replied.

Link studied his foe. There was something… off.

The last declaration had not sounded like a threat…

"And if a child is found, and carried away from the forest… will the doom remain?" Link asked.

"No. But if _you_ become lost… know this: the forest accepts _children_ into its embrace… and you are no child. You will never hear the forest song… unless you perish here," the creature warned.

Link didn't even hesitate. He lit a second torch, and handed it to Rusl.

"I will return…" he promised.

Rusl nodded weakly, but made no move to retreat. He would hold his ground until his nephew returned… nausea and weakness be damned.

Link broke into a fast shuffle-limp, deeper into the forest, following Talo's tracks, torch held high. Fear coursed within him… but it was trivial… because he knew what he had to do… because only fools, and the dead are fearless.


	4. Chapter 4

Saria watched from the trees… as the goat-man pushed his way deeper into the Lost Woods. Magic curled and flickered around his ankles and head, trying to deceive him, slow him… trip him. With limited success. There was an echo within his blood… an echo of the Forest.

And that confused the Forest Song. The boy stumbled occasionally… but more often from injury than magic.

Saria was beginning to believe… that he might be of _her_ son's blood. There was also… something else about him. A nebulous power… one that did not taste of any tribe… it was not Water, Forest, Shadow, Spirit, Fire, or Light… it was… other. So Saria watched.

((()))

"Link…" Talo croaked, sitting against a tree… his legs were so tired.

"Dad…" there were no more tears. He was spent.

"Rusl…" alone, in the dark. The monsters were coming. The things hunting him… unseen in the night… sensed with the hairs on the back of one's neck… or glimpsed only from the corner of an eye…

"It won't be long now," a familiar voice said.

Familiar. Hated.

She was back. The forest girl. The monster.

But it also meant he wasn't alone in the dark.

"Don't let it find me," Talo whimpered.

A tentative hand touched his cheek.

"It cannot be outrun," the monster apologized, sad.

"I don't wanna be a monster," Talo hiccuped.

Unfamiliar arms wrapped around him, and the tired, frightened boy curled up, hiding within those arms.

"It's not so bad," the forest girl said. She smelled wrong… like leaves. She didn't smell like a person… like sweat, and wool… dirt…

She smelled like… a tree.

"We play all day… and we don't grow old… or die. We just play… and play… forever…" the monster said sadly.

"I wanna grow up… like my dad. I want to get big… strong…" Talo protested.

"Grown-ups have to work all the time… they don't get to play," the forest girl pointed out.

"Don't let it find me," Talo pleaded.

"Grown-ups die. And crumble to dust. You want to die?!" the forest girl demanded.

"No," Talo said.

"Then stop crying," the forest girl said.

((()))

Link felt… wrong. His head was pounding, and it seemed as if the night was gently spinning around him… making him dizzy if he looked up… so he ignored everything but the dirt before him… following Talo's tracks. Nausea continued to mount within him… also ignored.

Follow the tracks. Find Talo.

The pain in his leg was actually a point of focus for him, a distraction from his belly. The torch began to gutter, and Link paused, long enough to light his third torch… and planted the dying torch in the dirt at his feet. The boy had climbed a tree.

Now his tracks were joined with those of another… feet of similar size, though bare.

Link snarled softly, and urged greater speed from his legs. He was beginning to bleed again… slightly.

Link ignored that too.

((()))

Cali held the goat-boy as he cried. She could see the magic curling within him, drifting in with every breath he took… if a faerie did not find him soon… then his skin would begin to blacken from the magic, his teeth would sharpen, and his eyes would become like burning coals. There were few faeries within the wood… they were not a prolific race.

Cali did not care whether the boy became a kokiri or a skull kid. Both were immortal. Because either way… she would not be alone again. There were few skull kids, and fewer kokiri within the forest… but all had mates. None were alone.

Except for Cali.

Friends could not replace the gaping hole, the need. She had friends in plenty.

But she was still _alone_.

She sat in the dark… and waited. Soon.

Hours passed, the starlight drifted above the leaves… and the magic continued to worm its way within Talo… darkening his skin…

Cali whispered soft assurances to the boy.

She smelled the torch before she saw the light… and rose, hand darting to her bow.

Impossible.

Talo also opened his eyes, with her sudden departure… he was afraid.

But then that fear turned to hope… even as Cali's shattered.

"Help!" he cried, his voice surging with desperation.

Cali hissed, and drew an arrow. The one carrying the torch was too tall. Not a child… and within the forest. How had he come this far?

Enemy.

Her first shot missed, two fingers low, in her rage… lodging in a shoulder, instead of the throat. The carrier of the flame did not fall… but simply increased the pace.

"Stop it!" Talo shouted, throwing himself at Cali, grabbing at her bow.

"Get off!" Cali screamed, knocking him away. She drew another arrow, as the man bore down upon her. She aimed for an eye this time.

And froze.

The Prodigal? But… how?

And the man (who could not be her friend, for he was long dead) smote her with his staff.

((()))

Link looked between the creatures. One was a girl of eleven years (albeit one with a tail), and green skin… currently unconscious from the blow to her head.

The other wore Talo's clothes… but the skin was far too dark… and the eyes seemed to reflect the torchlight.

"Talo?" Link asked, cautious.

"Link!" the creature stumbled and crawled, scrambling into the torch light.

"Don't let it get me!" it pleaded.

It was Talo.

It seemed the doom mentioned by the kokiri was close at hand. But he could no longer feel the arm that held his staff… the arrow had furrowed through most of his muscle in that shoulder.

And he could not walk without the staff… but he could not see without the torch.

He had only one hand now.

It didn't matter. "Talo… grab my belt… and hold this torch. We're leaving," he said firmly.

((()))

Saria stepped forward from where she had watched.

"You will never leave the forest in time," she said.

The Link who was not her Link, stared at her stubbornly.

Power leaked from his hand… power she had once fleetingly felt from afar. Also held by her first son.

"You cannot know that," Link snapped.

"I do," Saria replied calmly.

The almost-skull kid began to cry.

"If you were kind, you would bring all of your children to us," Saria said.

"For what reason?" Link demanded.

"Darkness is coming… here, within the seat of our power, they might survive… but outside the forest, their survival is unlikely," Saria shrugged.

"What darkness?" Link asked, suspicious.

"An ancient foe, long since thrown from this world… it has returned… and it is hungry. You have only to look to the north to see its approach," Saria warned softly.

"Why are you telling me this?" Link asked, tired, studying the kokiri.

"Because although you are not of the Forest, you are still of this world. That which comes to devour all is not. Which makes us kin of world, if not tribe," the creature said.

"Then as kin of this world, can you not save Talo from your magic?" Link asked.

Saria stared deep within eyes that were so familiar… and yet foreign to her. Dredging up memories of the past. Memories of love. His face was not _quite_ the same… her Link had always had a gauntness about his face… a wild quality to him… of something only half-tamed. This Link… his eyes did not hold the knife-edge readiness to kill, to fight and protect. This one had a friendlier face… like the difference between a wolf, and a dog. Oh… he was a killer for certain… but he was an unwilling one.

He was not her Link… but… Saria hesitated.

He was not her son… but she did not wish him sadness… for he was close enough… and for all that, he was kin… very distant… but no less family.

And Saria loved her family.

"Very well," Saria, Sage of the Forest said. She approached, and took the man by the wrist. As she did so, magic flowed into his veins… and his hurts faded… the arrow was pushed from his shoulder by the flesh that knitted itself together once more. Then they walked. A few moments later, as they pushed through a curtain of hanging moss… Link felt disorientation flash through him, from crown to toes… and he saw torchlight ahead. They could not have traveled so far in less than fifty paces. But they had.

Rusl raised his torch, squinting… as Link led Talo forward… he looked over his shoulder…

But the kokiri was gone.

((()))

"And what do _you_ want?" Zelda asked the creature that had crawled within her room. It was misshapen, as if injured… sick. Although its ragged edges had begun to knit together, as it absorbed its most recent meal.

_"Revenge,"_ the monster purred.

"Upon whom, exactly?" Zelda asked politely. This thing felt different from the others. Unrestrained.

It was not bound by her oppressor. It was not here to guard her.

It very well might kill her.

Zelda was not sure if that possibility worried her or not.

_"My enemies…" _the pulsing shadow replied.

"That is the typical recipient of revenge… but who might they be?" Zelda sighed.

Eyes began to form within the cloud. Eyes similar to her jailor's… and the body was beginning to look something like a child of seven years…

_"Your enemies…"_

Zelda cocked her head, studying the creature in greater detail.

"Do you have a name?" Zelda asked.

"_I can't remember," _the shadow said… uneasy.

"What do you want from me?" Zelda asked cautiously.

The shadow smiled… showing some _very_ sharp teeth.

((()))

As they walked, Talo began to change in Rusl's arms. The change was not dramatic, or sudden… but by the time they came within sight of Ordon Ranch's walls… Talo's flesh was only slightly darker than his original hue… and his drooping eyes had lost their glow.

Link on the other hand, felt… excellent. He didn't hurt, at all. Even the faint twinge he had felt for so long from his once broken arm was gone.

But he could not forget the Kokiri's warning… and had passed it on to Rusl as well.

"I will send word with the courier, the King must know of this…" Rusl said.

"Unless the King already knows," Link said, thinking of his strange dream… of darkness, and those blue eyes… a dream the coincided with the appearance of the storm clouds on the horizon.

"It is possible the evil has already befallen the capital… if so…" Rusl trailed off into an uneasy silence.

"Link… there are things we must speak of, when we return," Rusl said.

Link glanced at his uncle… and the odd tone of voice.

((()))

"_WHY?!" _the warrior screamed.

Saria simply watched. She was Sage of the Forest. No child of the forest could harm her.

"Why did you help them?!" Cali sobbed.

Saria wrapped the poor girl in her arms.

"I know you are lonely… but fear not. War is coming… and soon children will flee to us for safety once more. You will not be alone much longer…"

"I wanted _him _though…" Cali choked.

"You have watched him for a long time… but he might not be the one you think him to be," Mido warned.

Cali had not always been alone. But her mate had died in the last war… when her people had made war upon the Dark Man… alongside the Prodigal.

A war they had "won."

A war in which Cali had lost everything.

But the boy… in almost everyway, save one… he reminded her of the one she had lost. He was like Wun.

Aside from the only difference that mattered. A difference that had almost been removed.

The boy was mortal.

((()))

Once Talo was safely within his mother's arms, Rusl and Link returned home.

At least they attempted to.

They were… delayed.

"Are you hurt?" Ilia panted, out of breath… clearly she had run from her own home, after hearing Pergie's cries. Link and Rusl had not returned to the village with lit torches, so any watching from a window would not have seen them…

"I'm fine," Link said.

"There's blood on your leggings, did the wound reopen?" Ilia demanded. She ignored Link's protests of perfect health, he _never_ complained, so could not be relied upon to accurately report the seriousness or presence of any injuries. She pulled Link's tunic aside, and stared. The bandages were in disarray… clearly he had pushed himself too hard…

But the exposed skin beneath… it was intact, aside from a faint pale scar… Ilia traced the scar… it matched his wound.

"One of the kokiri healed me," Link explained.

Then he was struggling to breathe, from the girl hugging him so tightly.

"You're safe," she whispered, the depth of her relief preventing any further words.

Link smiled, and returned the hug.

"I'm fine, Ilia. Go home, get some sleep," he said.

_Then_ Rusl and Link managed to return home.

Rusl remained silent, as he removed his armor, and stored his sword.

Link remained silent as well. His uncle would speak when he was ready. Not before. Uli and Colin also sat within the main room of the cramped house.

"Link… I do not know where to begin…" Rusl admitted, as he sat down at the table, across from Link.

"The beginning is often a good place to start," Link smiled slightly.

Rusl smiled wryly… "This concerns… your parents."

At that, Link sat up swiftly.

His mother had died giving birth to him… and his father had been unknown…

"Your father… I knew him. I served under him…" Rusl admitted.

Link focused on his uncle… with a predatory intentness.

"Tell me… tell me _everything_," Link demanded, desperate.

So Rusl did… through the long hours of the night… and Link learned of his father… a secret thirst that had plagued him all his life.

He learned what kind of man his father had been.

"The bravest, most stubborn warrior I have ever served beside. It was hard to tell if he was foolish, or courageous at the time…" Rusl said, smiling wanly.

"Is he still alive?" Link asked.

"No… no he is not," Rusl looked away, ashamed.

"How did he die?"

"There was… a great evil… or so it seemed at the time… a terrible threat that stalked the Gerudo within their great desert fortress… a nameless terror that could not be killed, not even by their greatest warriors… so they sent for aid… and the King sent a company of his best knights, magicians, and soldiers… even a pair of Sheikah rode with us… to honor our commitments to the desert tribe…"

Rusl's eyes grew haunted… as he stared off into the distance.

Link held his tongue, barely.

"We triumphed… and sealed the foe. Many died in the attempt. Your father was among their number…" Rusl said hollowly.

Link considered this information.

"Why… why have you kept this a secret for so long?" Link asked, studying the man he trusted most in this world. A man he still trusted. His uncle _must_ have had a reason.

"You carry the blood of ancient heroes… you are a Knight… but that blood is also a curse… as few that carry it ever see old age… often slain in battle against terrible foes… fewer still ever meet their children…" Rusl said bitterly.

"But why?" Link asked.

"Because all knights must serve the King… and the king serves the _people_… sometimes by sending his knights and soldiers to their deaths," Rusl shrugged.

"You hid me. You did not want the king to know I was a knight," Link realized.

"A soldier swears an oath of loyalty… of service. A soldier _chooses_ to risk his life in the defense of others. A Knight… is never given this choice. Your father was born and raised as a knight… and died a few months before _you_ were born. He was never given a choice," Rusl said sadly.

_Like a slave…_

Link studied his uncle.

"He was more than just your superior," Link probed.

"Aye. He was almost a brother, to me… which is also how he met my sister," Rusl smiled, bittersweet.

"You thought you were protecting me… but this was still treason," Link said gently.

"Technically, it was not. There was no marriage… and I have no _proof _that you are the product of Gregory's loins. I have a very strong _suspicion_, but I would be remiss in bringing such _gossip _to the king's attention," Rusl said, smiling smugly.

Link nodded slowly.

"Do… do I look like him?" Link asked.

"Mostly around the eyes… especially when you concentrate. He had that same look… but mostly, you take after your mother," Rusl answered.

((()))

"Can you help me escape this place?" Zelda asked the shadow-child. It had (she thought) finished absorbing its meal… and had transformed into a simulacrum of childhood… but was _just_ off enough to be completely unnerving… like a mantis that had been transformed into the body of a child… its mannerisms still those of the insect, but transposed upon those of a child.

Disturbing to say the least.

And it had no name.

_"I don't know. I'm weak,"_ the shadow said, curiously examining her… no, _it's_, fingers.

"There is a barrier of some kind, upon the door. I have tested it many times, but I cannot break it without my magic…" Zelda said, frustrated.

_"The window is open_," the shadow observed, distracted by the mechanics involved with bending and straightening digits.

"There are no handholds on the exterior of the tower," Zelda replied, running her fingers across the slippery surface of her door once more.

_"Then make some. It's easy," _the shadow giggled.

Zelda slowly turned to look at the shadow.

"What do you _mean?"_ she asked.

"_Silly light-worlder… this is a place of thoughts and memories. We can change it, if we want…" _the shadow laughed… sounding like a child, for a moment.

"Can you show me how?" Zelda asked, drawing closer to the unnatural, dangerous creature.

It clapped its hands, fascinated with the sound it made… but there was also an eerie childish delight burning in those orange eyes… and saw an echo of Ilisa…

_If they absorb and digest the spirits of those they devour… does the person who died not become a part of them?_ Zelda wondered. Clearly, these things became what they ate… to a degree. Influencing their personalities… if not their base instincts…

The shadow beckoned to Zelda, and lightly danced through the air to stand on the window sill… as if forgetting to obey gravity… and leaned out impossibly far at the waist, looking down the tower. In reality, she (no, _it_) would have toppled forward from being unbalanced.

"Can you teach me to create handholds?" Zelda asked.

The shadow bent further forward, to study Zelda from between her own knees, upside down.

_"Can it be a game?"_ she asked. Zelda gave up trying to correct herself that the shadow had no gender. It appeared to be a seven year old girl. Very well. She it was.

"Yes. It can be a game," Zelda sighed.

The shadow's mouth split into a wide, gleeful grin (one filled with very sharp teeth).

_"It's easy!" _

The shadow spun forward, as if swimming in the air, and daintily placed her hand against the stone… and it slid in like a knife to butter.

Zelda leaned out the window, and did the same… but felt only unyielding stone.

"_How_, do you do it?" she asked the shadow.

At this development, the shadow became cross.

"_Like this," _she sighed, exasperated… repeating her motion… as well as rolling her eyes.

Zelda bit down on her own rising frustration.

After fifteen minutes… there had been no progress.

"Can you create hand holds for me to use?" Zelda finally asked. Clearly the "trick" that was so simple was either innate to Interlopers… or far more complex than the shadow-child realized.

_"Yes… but not a lot at a time. If I change too much… HE will feel it…_" the shadow said… hatred and fear mixing in her voice. Mostly fear.

Zelda didn't have to ask who _he_ was.

The one that had eaten her father… and her mother before her very eyes.

Zelda's powers were gone. She could not foresee the paths and eddies of the future… but she promised something to herself.

She would _unmake_ the one that had robbed her parents of life.

Not simply kill.

_Erase._

((()))

The morning came entirely too soon for Link. It was, naturally, brought by Ilia. Namely with the slamming open of shutters, and the streaming of very bright sunlight.

"Link. Get up," Ilia said.

The wagon should have already left with the annual tithe _two days ago_. Obviously unforeseen complications had arisen. This also meant that their wagon would be _alone_, and not part of a nearby convoy.

Which meant Mayor Bo was having second, third, and even fourth thoughts about letting his daughter travel with the shipment. Even with Link going along. (Link had not yet been made aware of this).

That would soon change.

Besides, Epona was strong… they might catch up with the slow moving convoy before a day had passed… provided they left _soon_.

"Out of bed!" Ilia barked, yanking the covers off. Link promptly buried his head beneath a pillow.

But there was no escape… nor quarter given.

((()))

Link drooped where he sat on the wide bench seat, next to Ilia… who was holding the reins.

His head kept dipping…

Only to snap back up with another jolt from the rough road, or a poke in the ribs from Ilia.

"It's your own fault for staying up so late," she told him. Again.

Link couldn't exactly tell her _why_ he'd been up until a few hours before dawn. So he just weathered the admonishments and rib poking.

His staff was shoved behind him, into a gap between two sacks of goat cheese, and a pallet of wool.

Finally though, after several hours, Ilia relented… as she could see the bags beneath Link's eyes.

She did not know what he had gone through, in that magic forest. He was brave… braver than anyone she knew… but even the bravest man cannot flee from dreams and nightmares. Link might not have been _able_ to sleep after his encounter.

So she stopped keeping him awake, and after a few minutes, his head fell back, against a pallet of wool… and he began to snore quietly. His legs relaxed, and he began to sprawl… worrying Ilia that he might slip forward off the bench, and fall beneath the wagon.

So she edged across the inches that separated them, and wrapped one unresponsive arm around her waist. Link mumbled in his sleep, and shifted position, head slipping down onto her shoulder. It also changed the angle of his body, eliminating the likelihood of slithering forward off the bench.

And… it was nice.

Link had often napped like this when they were younger… when things were less confusing.

When Rusl had been the protector… before Link had awoken to that role.

Back when his smiles had come as easily to his lips as breathing.

Back when he had been happy.

Ilia pushed the sadness down deep, and instead focused on the immediate _now_. Right _now_ Link was with her.

And she was happy.

She knew he loved her.

What she feared… was that it might be a _brother's_ love.

He often had called her little sister when they were growing up…

If that's all he felt with her… the closeness of a sibling…

She did not know how she might react.

Not knowing was agony… but knowing… knowing might be worse.

_Stop it_, Ilia growled. She would not think about the future, or what might be.

Link was with her. She would just have to be happy with that.

((()))

"Where is everyone. Where are my _people?_" Zelda asked tightly, walking down the street, somewhere in the market district. The shadow skipped along beside her, as if playing invisible hop-scotch upon the cobble stones.

_"Eaten?" _the shadow shrugged, unconcerned.

There was a distant scream of irritation.

Zelda felt exposed in her ripped finery… especially as her magic pauldrons were gone. There were half-destroyed stalls of abandoned merchandise everywhere… one of them had sold cloaks.

Zelda found one with a hood… and felt better once she was concealed… its exterior just as greasy and stained as the dim world around her. Nothing of note.

_"What did you do? It's harder to see you now," _the shadow said, staring at Zelda, curious.

"I am less noticeable now," Zelda said… believing her words.

The shadow swayed in surprise.

"_You disappeared… but now you're hazy…" _the shadow drew closer, touching the cloak, intrigued.

Zelda hid her smile… she believed she might be starting to understand this world.

"Are there any enemies nearby?" Zelda asked.

_"Many left… because the food was gone,"_ the shadow swam lazily beside Zelda, making bored little flips and spins. It wasn't exactly an answer.

Which reminded Zelda of something. It had presumably been days since the castle fell.

She had not eaten in all that time. She did not feel thirsty, tired, or hungry…

Intriguing.

There was another scream of frustration in the distance. Clearly _something_ was not having success in some venture.

Zelda decided to head in that direction.

((()))

Link woke feeling sore. Especially his lower back. He was a little startled to realize he'd sprawled onto Ilia.

He was more surprised that she'd let him… and hadn't woken him up.

The sun was not overhead… but either they were heading south now, or it was past noon.

He guessed past noon.

Epona did not look tired… though she had developed a thin sheen of sweat. Ilia was keeping the wagon at a decent pace, but not enough to tire the horse.

Link returned his attention to the horizon. The storm clouds didn't _look_ any closer, but distance was deceptive in such things. And he was beginning to feel uneasy. He stood up, balancing on the wooden seat as he used his vantage point to look around.

The road was currently winding across rock studded plains… with low grass. Nowhere for enemies to hide… at least, not in a group. A few boulders were large enough to hide a man-sized enemy… but they were quite far away.

Link didn't think there was any immediate danger… but the road ahead passed through a far more rocky area… before reaching a wooden bridge spanning a narrow gorge that stretched for miles to the east and west…

A position with abundant places to hide…

Link unwound his sling, and made sure his staff was loose where he had wedged it, and easily brought to hand.

Just in case.


	5. Chapter 5

Madame Fanaldi flinched, as another blow stuck against the wall of the tavern.

But the symbols painted there flared, again… and the wall remained intact.

"Persistent, aren't they?" the acrobat grinned weakly. Fanaldi was uncertain of his name. Pur- something or other; she had seen him performing in the main market square once or twice. It usually involved acrobatics and knife throwing.

"This place is protected child," the priest in the corner said gently. Three smallish children, sisters, by the looks of them, were clustered close to the old man's billowing robes. They had been playing outside the tavern when the monsters came.

"Are you sure they can't get in?" the proprietor asked, irritating the fortune teller.

"Of course. The power within these symbols is considerable," Fanaldi lied smoothly. Of the assembled refugees, she was the only one with magical training… and all had turned to her for answers.

Answers she could not give. She was a witch in name only. She'd never progressed past apprentice in the Wylde words. What knowledge she did have was enough to give her an edge in predicting the "futures" of her clients… but little else.

Put simply, she didn't _know_ why the monsters couldn't get in, or why the gerudo symbols seemed able to repel them.

Fanaldi dealt in grim truths though. To her knowledge, there was no other place of safety in the city. Therefore, this place either would remain safe, and they would survive, or it would not, and they would die.

So she lied… to give the others some semblance of hope. She'd seen people do amazing things with hope… even hope born from careful lies. Sometimes especially then. People did not come to her for _answers_. They might believe they did, but really, they came with their decision already made… what they really wanted, was validation from one who could "see the future."

"I am curious though," Madame Fanaldi said casually.

"About what?" the proprietor asked.

"Your tavern is saturated with the cultural and tribal trappings of your people… you seem quite proud of your gerudo heritage… why then do you wear hylian garb?" Fanaldi asked.

"It's a lot colder here. And silk is hard to acquire in this land," Telmaru said, her gold eyes twinkling.

Considering the amount of cleavage the well-endowed woman was displaying with such a low neckline, temperature did not seem an overwhelming factor in her clothing choice.

Another blow rattled a window in its frame… but did not crack the panes.

The soldier standing next to it flinched, knuckles tightening around the haft of his spear.

His name was Parik. Sergeant Parik of the city guard. Today was his birthday.

It was also the only reason he and his squad were still alive. Their patrol finished, the men had banded together, and coerced the sergeant into a quick round of drinks at Telma's Bar to celebrate— Parik glanced over at Eorlund— a guard in his late thirties… with a wife and three children. Parik had even met them a few times after his shift; the oldest, Jon, was twelve, and had the same quiet, physical presence of dependability and competence about him as his father (something to compensate for his two hell-cat younger sisters).

At the moment there seemed to be a war within Eorlund's eyes between terror, grief, and rage. Telma's bar was in the southern quarter. Eorlund's tenement lay near the center of the eastern quarter… an hour's walk (if one used the main roads).

Eorlund's family _might_ have survived. They may have hidden… but Parik didn't put much hope in that. These monsters seemed to hunt with a sixth sense, able to find hidden prey with ease, though most lacked anything identifiable as eyes or ears.

The monsters could be hurt, it was true. The squad had been able to stand off one of the beasts during the initial attack, long enough for those outside to take refuge in the bar. Its hide had been tough, but not impenetrable.

The problem lay in how _quickly_ the damned things could heal… and their unnatural strength. Parik and his squad had been forced to retreat with the arrival of the second monster…

After the retreat Parik had positioned his soldiers carefully— one per window— and door. Just in case. The monster outside his window reared back, and smashed at the pane of glass again with one impossibly long, ropy arm. The symbols painted around the window frame flared with a sullen orange glow once more… but the sergeant thought something was… different.

It took him several long seconds to recognize it.

A symbol was missing. He'd been staring at the pattern on the window-frame for nearly... (he wasn't actually sure. Ever since retreating into the bar, at least), regardless, he'd taken note of how perfectly spaced the symbols had been, every six inches.

There was a twelve inch space now in the top left corner.

There hadn't been a space there before.

And hadn't the lines been thicker?

"Madame Fanaldi!" Parik barked.

The portly woman hurried over.

Parik pointed to the window frame, "We have a problem."

((()))

The shadow left her side, and darted away across the rooftops, as Zelda walked. The sounds of violence were growing clearer… she wasn't quite sure where she was, but the market district was behind her. She was in some kind of winding warren now, of multi-level apartments, with interconnecting foot-bridges. A place where one could easily become lost within.

The shadow unnerved her… it felt like holding a conversation with a man, a man with a naked knife in hand beneath the table. A man she did not know. For all of that though, the sudden departure of the shadow left Zelda feeling vulnerable… even though she might actually be safer _now_.

A sword lay abandoned upon the street, next to an overturned wagon. Zelda was struck again by the lack of bodies or blood. The city simply appeared abandoned. She took up the sturdy blade though. It was heavy and crude in her hand… apparently from the city guard, and not the royal guard. It was a weapon though.

Zelda smiled beneath her hood.

It wasn't a very nice smile.

Then the shadow was back.

"_There is a building. It is protected," _the shadow said, curious.

"Do you know how?" Zelda asked.

The shadow shrugged, _"No,"_

"Are there Interlopers attacking it?" Zelda asked.

"_Three," _the shadow said, uneasily.

"How close are we?" Zelda asked.

"_Too close," _the shadow decided.

"If the building is protected, then there may be people hiding within it. They can help me," Zelda said.

_"I'm helping too…" _the shadow sulked.

"Yes you are. But if there are more of us, we can hurt more enemies," Zelda pointed out.

The shadow considered this. From six inches away. Zelda kept from twitching at the unexpected proximity. (Barely)

_"If I eat them, I can help you more,"_ the shadow mused.

"_No._ If you harm them then _I _will not help you," Zelda said sharply, taking a step _closer_ to the too-close Interloper. She couldn't show fear, or doubt.

This creature was still mostly ruled by instinct.

The shadow darted away, pouting. She didn't know what she'd done wrong.

And that further underscored to Zelda that it _looked_ like child, but _was not_.

"Do you swear to treat my enemies as your enemies, my allies as your allies?" Zelda demanded.

_"What is swearing?"_ the shadow asked, drifting back, sulk forgotten.

"It is an agreement that cannot be broken," Zelda said.

_"Everything breaks… especially people," _the shadow turned upside down, staring at Zelda in confusion.

"Not all things— and when two make such an agreement, they make something powerful," Zelda said.

_"How?"_

"This agreement would mean behaving in a certain way, or rather, within a set of guidelines," Zelda explained patiently.

_"Like rules?"_ the shadow's nose wrinkled in distaste, reminding Zelda of Ilisa… and that dead child's blatant disregard for rules.

"No, more like—" Zelda searched for a word that might resonate with Ilisa's stolen memories…

"Like a _promise_," Zelda said.

"_Oh!"_ the shadow spun a couple of times, grinning, now that she understood.

"_I promise," _the shadow frowned, squinting suspiciously at Zelda.

_"Do you promise too?"_

"Yes. I promise," Zelda said, reluctantly holding out her hand. She really didn't want to touch the Interloper.

"_What are you doing?" _the shadow asked.

"We shake hands, to seal the promise," Zelda said.

The shadow shook a hand at her, nonplussed.

"No. You place your hand against mine, palm to palm, and we shake them up and down at the same time," Zelda explained patiently.

_"Is it like a game?"_

Zelda sighed, "Yes. It's like a game."

((()))

Madame Fanaldi chanted breathlessly, weaving her wylde magics in defense of the tavern. She lacked the strength, and knowledge to directly protect the tavern, or harm the monsters. _However, _she was very talented with illusion, specifically, forcing another to _focus_ on something of her choice. At the moment, that something was the bakery across the street. The monsters were enthusiastically annihilating the unprotected building… (she'd never liked their sweet rolls anyway).

Madame Fanaldi began to alter her weaves, looking for a new target.

As such, she was the first to see the hooded figure approaching.

Telma was the second.

"Oh no…" the gerudo breathed in horror, seeing another poor soul fleeing to the shelter of the tavern. Many had tried, but the three monsters nearby had devoured most of them, and grown both larger, and fatter in the process. She dreaded the inevitable turn of an eyeless bulbous head, followed by a screech, signaling the attack…

But no head turned.

No monster saw the figure calmly passing between them, cloak swishing faintly around the hooded form.

Two monsters were farther from the tavern. One was only a few paces away, and snuffling at the air, searching for those that hid within.

"Parik!" Telma hissed, and one of the city guardsmen turned to her, his knuckles noticeably tight upon his spear.

"Get your men ready," she whispered. The sergeant signaled to his patrol… all four of them. They looked fit to wet themselves, and weren't likely to set foot outside without a firm sergeant's boot to get them there— but even a spear thrust from a window might make a difference for the straggler, if the monster took notice.

Telma turned back, just as the figure drew level with the beast… only four or five paces from where Telma stood in the doorway.

At which point the straggler halted. The hood obscured all features save a slice of mouth and chin.

"No… no, don't freeze up, keeping walking… you're almost safe," Telma whispered, anguished.

Then the hooded straggler smiled.

_She_ spun, cloak twirling out like a skirt, as deceptively thin limbs whipped a sword out, in a beautiful two-handed attack upon the monster – that _separated head from shoulders_.

Telma saw this all as if the moment had slowed to a crawl.

The other two monsters saw it too, as the third collapsed like a deflated bag, spilling black ichor across the cobblestones, which rapidly dissipated into the gloom.

_"You wasted it," _a child whined. Telma's gaze darted, but she saw no sign of any child.

"Can you defeat one by yourself?" the woman demanded, turning to face the two charging monsters.

_"If it's hurt,"_ the unseen child answered. The woman resettled the cloak around her shoulders, sword hidden once again and began to slowly walk to the side.

The monsters barreled past her (one missed by only a handspan), snorting and snarling in the place where the third had died: seeking her.

Then the sword flashed again, leaving the nearest monster to clutch at the gash across its belly.

A shape peeled itself from the cloak, almost resembling a child, before leaping upon the wounded monster in a mess of limbs and tentacles.

The woman calmly faced the last monster— but it could see her now.

"Please feel free to render aid at your earliest convenience," the woman called, sword held laterally at middle readiness.

"Parik!" Telma barked.

"Hit it, boys!" the sergeant snarled, thrusting his spear, to bite into shadow flesh. Other spears followed suit.

But they were pinpricks.

Telma's scimitar though… that was a different story. The gerudo leapt across her threshold, and swept her blade across one powerful haunch. The blade had hung behind the bar for many years, but Telma had kept it sharp and well oiled.

The scimitar gave evidence of it's good care, and cut deep— but not deep enough to sever the limb. The wound _was_ enough to gain its full, undivided attention though.

As the monster spun, Telma was already back pedaling… but she wasn't fast enough. The monster was going to overtake her first—

—until a sword tip erupted from the charging beast's chest.

It too fell, twitching, before dissolving and dissipating.

Leaving the cloaked woman standing behind it.

Unharmed.

Telma froze… and her eyes were drawn to the writhing pile of darkness not far from the woman.

"I can explain," the stranger said, smiling.

((()))

"What's wrong, Link?" Ilia asked. Her friend was casting constant glances to either side of the road, and the bridge ahead.

"Good place for an ambush," he whispered tensely. They were traveling through a rough patch of tumbling hills and jutting rock, not far from a miles wide gorge (though it only spanned a hundred meters). A gorge they must cross via a wooden bridge, and the sun was on the verge of setting.

Ilia swallowed, nervous. A pebble rattled down some rocks off to the left. Link did not look… but kept the direction of the sound in his periphery. Link smelled something foul.

Ilia snapped the reins, spurring Epona to a faster pace.

Link seated a stone in his sling, but left it hanging at his side.

Then they came into view of the bridge… and the grasslands beyond it.

There were fires burning in the distance. Cooking fires.

"The convoy?" Ilia asked.

Wagons could be seen in the dimming light.

"Looks like it," Link agreed, "Pick up the pace. We're being shadowed by something," he whispered.

He kept watch… but whatever it was had no stomach for a fight it seemed… and broke off pursuit. Which made it one of two things: either a coward… _or a scout_.

((()))

The shadow sat on one of the tavern tables. She no longer appeared to be a child shaped construct of shadow, with poisonous orange and yellow eyes… At Zelda's insistence, she now wore a different form. And it was a game.

Four children in the back of the tavern were playing a game with an elderly man dressed in the garment of a priest (something with clapping and hands; Zelda did not recognize the game). The shadow was watching them, frozen like a spider, only her eyes moving, tracking the erratic motions of hands and arms… like those of a cat studying a wounded bird.

Telma bowed to Princess Zelda. Although technically queen, there was no means of coronation at the moment.

"I apologize for my… doubt. Few have ever seen a Sheikah before," the gerudo said, casting a suspicious glance at the young girl with white hair and red eyes… almost a younger doppelganger of the princess, (except for the short spiky hair and red eyes, of course). Something about the shiekah's posture seemed… unnatural.

"Midna is young. She has not progressed very far in her training, and as such her powers are unpredictable," Zelda said carefully.

"How were you able to go unseen by the monsters?" Telma asked, curious. Madame Fanaldi had inspected the princess's cloak, and found it to be mere wool.

"This is the Twilight. A place of memory, and thought… of dreams," Zelda shrugged.

"Or nightmares," one of the guards whimpered.

"True, but sometimes, if you _know_ you are dreaming, can you not influence that dream? If you know it is a dream… but also _believe _you can fly… is it not possible to do so?" Zelda asked.

The guard shrunk back, unused to being directly addressed by royalty. He was the son of a mere cooper, after all.

"So you believed you were invisible?" Telma asked, bemused.

"No. I believed the _cloak_ was, just as I believed the guardsman's sword could cut as keenly as my broken sword," Zelda replied.

"You're cheating!" a little boy complained, and Zelda quickly shot a glance at the shadow. The sheikah-disguised-interloper was not on the table, where Zelda had seen her sitting a _moment_ ago (the space of a mere blink).

She had moved right behind the loudly complaining little boy, crouched so close that she was _practically _almost touching him (a distance of nearly twelve yards) and the little boy had no idea she was there. Judging from the wide eyes of the priest and little girls, _they_ had seen the shadow move.

If she meant the boy harm, she was in the perfect position to do so.

"_How was there cheating?"_ the shadow asked intently, (which caused the little boy to jump up and scream in fear, running to hide behind the priest).

Zelda saw the shadow sway slightly… a reflexive pounce, curtailed a moment before it could begin. The shadow was staring at the little boy in confusion—

—and frustration.

"Midna, come here, if you would," Zelda called. Promise or no, she did not know if the Interloper's word could be trusted. Just because it had remembered _this_ time did not preclude the possibility that the shadow might very well forget its promise in the heat of the moment _next time_. Zelda did not know how tightly oaths or words bound an Interloper's actions.

It did not understand the world… and its only frame of reference for understanding came from the tattered and hastily absorbed memories of a murdered seven-year old girl. And what seven-year old understands how the world really works? Regardless those stolen memories did not seem to unduly influence its natural instincts.

Midna wandered over to Zelda, remembering to keep her feet on the ground. Mostly.

The others drew back when the young sheikah girl arrived. There was something unsettling about her gaze and movements.

_"How did she cheat?"_ the shadow asked, confused.

"I'm not sure, but I have a question for you," Zelda said.

The shadow stared at Zelda, waiting.

"Is there any way to seal, or escape the Twilight, from the inside?" Zelda asked.

_"Maybe. I don't know how he did this,"_ the shadow shrugged. One of the children snapped their fingers, and the shadow froze, studying the movement with alien intensity.

"Did he pull the castle _into_ the Twilight, or did he push the Twilight out to envelop the castle?" Zelda asked.

_"Both,"_ the shadow said, snapping her fingers experimentally, studying the motion, and the sound produced, then glancing up at the children for comparison.

"So… we're half-way between the Light world… and the Twilight?" Zelda asked.

The shadow shook her head.

"_The Twilight is half-way,"_ she looked like she was growing bored, eyes darting back to the game the little boy was playing with the other children.

"Half-way to what?" Zelda prodded.

"_The Dark world. We don't go there. Something… scary… lives there,"_ the shadow whispered.

"You're supposed to let the other player hit your hands once, before you can move them," Telma told the sheikah girl.

_"Why?"_ she asked.

"It's how the game is played," Telma shrugged.

_"Hmm…"_ the shadow wandered back over to the children in little flickering starts and stops, only moving when those playing the game that could see her glanced away. It was very similar to hunting behavior. Too similar for Zelda's peace of mind.

Zelda watched the shadow, worried. "Midna" seemed to have an unhealthy attraction towards children… or children's games.

Telma turned her gaze upon the Princess, worried.

"Is she…" the gerudo trailed off, unable to tactfully ask if the girl was touched in the head.

"She's not exactly mad. This is a place of shadow, which is the source of her clan's power… a power that is normally quite dilute," Zelda shrugged.

"So she's not mad, she's… drunk?" Telma said, squinting.

"Not exactly, but probably the best analogy for the situation," Zelda agreed.

((()))

"Look, it's _The_ Ordon Village tithe!" a guard called, amused. Clearly he'd seen the ranch's sign.

Link ignored the chuckling guard, as Ilia halted the wagon on the edge of the camp.

"Take care of Epona, I'll set up camp," Ilia said. She knew where everything was packed in the wagon.

The shepherd gratefully leapt from the wagon, and stretched his aching muscles. He walked Epona to the nearby creek, weaving through dozens of other pack animals and handlers.

There were over ten score of wagons at the camp, by Link's rough count. He saw many guards… but most were militia… although a few wore the uniform of actual soldiers, equipped with armor and dedicated weaponry (instead of wood axes, hunting bows, and javelins).

By the time Link had picketed Epona to graze near the wagon, Ilia already had a small cook fire going, and handed the small metal pot to Link, "Water," she said, tired.

Link nodded, feeling guilty, as he'd been able to nap some of the way.

"I'll take it from here," the shepherd said, when he returned with the water.

"Oh?" Ilia challenged.

"I may not be able to cook as well as you, but I've been practicing," Link said.

Ilia shrugged, and grabbed the bedrolls, spreading them out next to the fire.

For all his words, Link was a little nervous. Practice and proficiency were two completely different things. He neglected to mention the number of times he'd set his culinary concoctions on fire. She didn't need to know. Besides, he'd also refilled the water skins, which were close at hand, if needed.

He was brave, not stupid.

((()))

"I wonder how far this darkness stretches? Is it just the city? Or has the entire land been plunged into this… hell?" Sergeant Parik mumbled, standing at the window.

_"What does it matter?"_ a young voice asked, at his elbow, causing the soldier to jump. The sheikah girl. He hadn't seen her move. _Again_.

"If-if it's just the city, we might be able to win free, and escape back into the light," the sergeant stammered.

_"No you can't,"_ the girl giggled.

"Why not?" the sergeant demanded, unnerved. He thought her teeth had been sharp. A trick of the light, surely.

_"There's a barrier,"_ she explained, like he was an idiot.

"Can it be broken?" Zelda asked, looking up as she heard the conversation.

_"No,"_ the shadow shook her head.

"Is the Twilight confined to Castle Town?" Zelda asked.

_"No,"_ the shadow said, growing irritated, apparently from explaining obvious things. Obvious to an Interloper, at least.

"Is it _expanding_?" Zelda demanded.

_"Yes,"_ the shadow said, gaze snapping up to the ceiling, and froze (as if stalking something there).

"So… if it can envelop things… doesn't that mean the barrier is not completely impassable?" Zelda queried.

_"Things can come __**into **__the twilight. But they can't get __**out,**__"_ the shadow answered.

Zelda hid her frustration.

"_Unless_…" the shadow trailed off thoughtfully, considering something.

All eyes turned to the disguised Interloper.

"Unless _what? _What can get out of the Twilight?" Telma demanded.

"_Interlopers,"_ the shadow smiled… and forgot to keep her teeth normal… and her smile was far too wide.

"Midna," Zelda rebuked gently, "Mind your teeth," she said.

The shadow blinked… then her teeth and grin returned to "normal."

But the damage was done.

The sergeant leveled his spear, face white and lips flat with fear. Two other soldiers responded similarly… and others in the group drew back reflexively.

"She never did have much control over when her illusions manifested," the princess shrugged calmly, "I apologize if she startled anyone."

"Startle? Hell, I think I need new leggings," one of the guards mumbled, shaken.

But they accepted the explanation.

They were desperate.

And the desperate will cling to any hope that can be found.

The shadow forgot to mention one thing: daylight was fatal to an Interloper.

Star light was an entirely different matter though.

((()))

Link was propped up against a wagon wheel, staff in hand, keeping second watch while Ilia slept beside him. Not that he thought anyone from the convoy would _steal_ anything_…_

But the possible scout weighed heavily upon his mind. And it was a new moon, leaving only the stars for illumination.

And Ilia was his responsibility. She had been such, ever since the river… when she had nearly drowned… because of a stupid game.

Her death had nearly been his fault.

Besides… if he was a Knight, like Uncle Rusl believed… didn't that make protecting others his _role?_ Perhaps he was ill-suited to other professions, because of his nature?

Link didn't really put much stock in that idea… but it niggled at him. A little.

No, Link decided, he was a terrible craftsman simply because he was a terrible craftsman. His nature might have played a role… but in the end, it was Link, and not some nebulous fate that decided his actions.

The camp had grown quiet, as many retired… leaving a handful of shapes wandering the outskirts of the camp, most militia or guards patrolling. Link heard something strange, and turned his head… but didn't see anything. It was a sound he'd heard before… he thought… somewhere…

Curious, Link rose, and eased through the wagons, towards where he thought he'd heard the sound. The young man's path led right to the outer ring of wagons… without finding anything. He didn't even know what he was looking for. He frowned at a nearby sleeping guard. True, the man's back was to Link, but the shepherd was confident that the guard he was sleeping, not sitting watch; his helmeted head was hanging forward, chin on his armored chest). The man had left his spear on the ground at his side… a dangerous thing someone might step on.

_Hiss-thk!_

There it was again.

Link's head darted to the left… and he set off again, his curiosity darkening into worry, making his way with greater speed in the direction of the elusive sound (passing _another_ sleeping soldier on the way). Link turned slowly, when he reached his next guessed location of the noise, studying the area. An armored soldier stood next to a wagon, leaning casually on his spear, metal shield slung across his back… two sleeping forms were hidden beneath a blanket... a guttering cook fire, improperly banked and a possible fire hazard… a wagon overflowing with wares held on by a plethora of leather straps—

_Hiss-thk!_

Behind him.

Link spun, in time to see the guard fall in an undignified sprawl. As if sleeping.

Except there was an arrow protruding from the dead man's throat… where the armor didn't cover.

Not sleeping. It was the same noise when the kokiri had shot him.

The sound of an arrow hitting flesh.

Link was already moving, before his mind could catch up to what his body had already realized. As such, the second arrow, meant to silence any witnesses missed… by three inches.

"AMBUSH!" Link screamed, scrambling for cover behind a wagon. Terror ripped at his heart. He was lost. Where was Ilia, from here?

He didn't know.

He heard the screams shortly before the rumble of thunder reached him.

Illia was somewhere to his left.

Link ran through the wagons. He passed men and women rising from their places of sleep… and militia running to and fro with weapons.

But no soldiers.

No _living _soldiers.

_Stupid!_

There! That wagon looked familiar, their wagon was just beyond it!

Link jumped over the wagon's yoke, running for where he'd left Ilia—

—wrong wagon.

"ILIA!" Link roared, partially drowning out the din around him, for a moment.

And he thought he heard her cry back.

Ahead of him.

"Move!" Link snarled, shouldering aside anyone in his path.

Many stood and stared in shock, trying to understand what was happening.

Large things smashed through the camp nearby, partly illuminated by dying cook fires.

Things that moved upon four stubby legs… massive things.

"Moblins!" someone screamed.

Weapons rang, and Link felt his blood stirring.

Battle.

No. Massacre.

A man went down hard in front of Link, wood axe flying from one limp hand. He'd been impaled by a "javelin" as long as Link was tall.

"Link!"

_There_, he wasn't imaging it. Link hurdled the dead man without pausing, focused on his goal.

And he found her.

"What's happening?" Ilia demanded, trying to make sense of Epona's saddle and harness in the dark.

"We're under attack," Link snapped, grabbing Ilia, and taking the saddle from her.

"But, the guards—" Ilia protested. She didn't understand. She thought the convoy was safe. There were too many guards, too many people for it to be attacked. A lone wagon was vulnerable… but—

She was dimly aware of Link shoving her up onto Epona.

Bareback.

"Link, I need the saddle," Ilia protested.

"No time," Link said, handing his staff to Ilia. She took it reflexively, and Link scrambled up in front of Ilia.

"Hold on to me," Link ordered, wrapping his legs around Epona's flanks, and fisting her mane. It wasn't much different from riding a goat, right? Ilia wrapped her arms around Link's waist, the staff balanced horizontally in her grip across his lap.

"Hah!" Link shouted, and Epona broke into a nervous canter.

It was too dark to go faster safely… besides, they might be unseated. He did know which way was north though. It was the opposite direction of the screaming.

Then a moblin upon a giant boar charged passed right behind them…

Epona was brave, but she was no war horse. Bokoblins were a known threat. She knew how to fight _those_.

These foes though… were unknown.

And the big horse panicked, breaking into a full gallop.

"Link!" Ilia screamed, losing the staff in her desperate attempt to keep a hold of Link. The boy snarled, and clamped his legs stubbornly, refusing to lose his seat.

Which only further terrified the horse—

—and she bucked.

Ilia was dimly aware of falling… still holding onto Link. Then the shock of impact knocked the breath out of her.

She blinked… but it must have been longer, because she couldn't hear any screaming… at least, nothing _close_. She was lying on top of Link. And it was cold.

He wasn't moving. She touched his throat, searching for—

Link's hands grabbed hers firmly. She couldn't see his face… but he seemed to be telling her _not_ to move. His body was tense beneath her…

They had moved. They weren't where they'd fallen. They were _wet_.

Someone screamed nearby.

They didn't scream long.

Sickened, Ilia clenched her eyes shut, and buried her face in Link's shirt. She was a healer, not a warrior.

This was his world, not hers.

((()))

"I find it strange… that some magics work here, and others do not," the priest said, studying the gerudo symbols.

"I assume you have some skill with magic?" Zelda asked.

"A very modest amount, unfortunately. Healing, mostly, but it is based on Light magic. So far, I have been unable to heal even a broken fingernail," the old man chuckled ruefully.

_"There's no light here,"_ the shadow said, rolling her eyes.

"Only spirits and shadows," Telma said grimly.

"But, my incantations still hold power," Madame Fanaldi protested.

"Your power comes from words, instead of manipulating existing magical energies," Zelda pointed out.

"Telma… do you have a candle?" Zelda asked, curious. This perpetual gloom was not so dark as to prevent sight… even without a source of obvious light. In fact… it seemed to keep everything at the same level of gloom, regardless of whether the place should be darker or brighter.

But Zelda did not think she had seen a single burning torch, or lit candle within this fallen city.

Telma frowned, as she produced several candles, as well as flint and tinder.

"I've already tried lighting the candles… but the tinder won't light," the gerudo cautioned.

"I may have better luck," Zelda said.

She simply had to _believe _there could be fire here.

The question remained: could she believe hard enough to allow Fire to exist within this unnatural mixture of Spirit and Shadow? True, she had almost no talent for bending Fire to her will.

But from fire came _Light_.

And like the priest, Zelda was adept with Light magic.

Very adept.

((()))

Ilia didn't know how long they hid. She figured out that they were in the creek, under an overhang of some kind. But it was so cold… dawn came, and still they hid.

In its light, Ilia realized why the waters of the shallow creek had begun to smell foul. It was red.

Monsters moved nearby… watering their beasts no doubt. Ilia was terrified, if one should try to drink from above them, the overhang would collapse on top of them… to be buried alive…

At noon, the earth shook and thundered for fifteen minutes… before falling silent. The host had left. It was safe. They were safe. Ilia felt weak from relief… or merely drained, she couldn't tell. Relief took energy.

Ilia began to move, but Link tightened his embrace warningly.

A minute later came more screams… those of others who had emerged from hiding too soon…

She was so cold… even though she wasn't submerged in the chilling water, it had soaked Link's clothes, and sapped at her warmth indirectly. Link was almost completely submerged beneath her. His lips were blue, but his eyes remained focused, and intent… focused on survival.

His _and_ hers.


End file.
